How Will It Turn Out?
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Yet another time-travel fic! Hermione travels back in time, and finds herself meeting a young Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody. My own personal experiment: Hermione/Moody pairing. Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Unsure of rating yet.
1. A Last Ditch Trip

"A Last Ditch Trip"

Yes, it may have been… well, not so much risky, but rather just a long shot. Still, even long shots are worth a go. After all, the Room of Requirement gives you what you _require_; and in this case, Hermione Granger wanted to know if there was anything else that she and her friends should take on their quest to find the horcruxes.

The words she held in her mind were: 'I need to know what else to take to find the horcruxes'. Three times she passed the wall; and yet it didn't work. Okay, she thought, perhaps another approach.

No matter the variation on the words of her request, she was unsuccessful each time. Increasingly frustrated, she marched up to where the wall was supposed to be, just about ready to scream at it.

"You listen here!" she began, shaking her finger at it. Tears began to form. Dumbledore was dead; Hedwig was dead; Moody was dead. Who else would die?

Sliding to the floor, she let the tears flow freely. The Order's spy had betrayed them, leading to all three deaths. If they had thought it would be difficult to win the war without the headmaster, it was damn near impossible now. Harry was depressed over the death of his mentor, and then his owl. The greatest Auror of their time was now gone, which was utterly disheartening.

Struggling to her feet, more determined than ever, she began to stride backwards and forwards in front of the wall.

Give me what we need, she thought repeatedly. After three times, she looked up to see a door _finally_ appearing.

"About bloody time," she muttered ferociously. She yanked on the handle of the door, and saw a small table in the room. Sitting on it was a strange object. Well, the Room had never given her reason not to trust its judgement, so she picked up the object.

Nothing happened.

"Huh," she said, and she placed it in her small, beaded bag, and forgot it immediately. Shrugging, seeing nothing of interest, she walked towards the door. A fierce tug, and it swung open. She walked out without looking—no one had been anywhere nearby when she had entered, and she had only been gone less than half a minute—so she was in for a surprise when she bounced back off a moving object with a yelp.

She was back against the wall within seconds, a wand at her throat, and she dropped her own wand in shock and fright.

"Oh gods, a Death Eater," she whispered, her eyes screwed shut tightly as she shook, knowing that her death would greatly impede Harry and Ron's chances of finding and destroying the horcruxes.

"I'm no Death Eater; how _dare_ you suggest such a thing!" her attacker said in a gruff voice. Hermione risked opening her eyes.

"T-then who are you?"

"I'm the one with the wand, so I'll ask the questions," he said, and Hermione felt tears coming back to her eyes again. "I've never seen you before, so first: your name."

"H-hermione G-granger," she said, her voice still quiet from fear. She swallowed, and took in her attacker's face. It was the only part of him that she could see; and, judging by the muscles that she could feel in the arm that was across her chest, effectively pinning her against the wall… well, she certainly wouldn't have a chance against him without magic. Even with magic, she probably wouldn't stand a chance, judging by the confidence that radiated from him.

His eyes were dark, and full of mistrust. His hair was red, though not as red as the trademark Weasley hair; and from close-up she could see a few scars on his face, some even going into his hairline. Some of the scars were nearly healed, others were fresh, and two or three even looked as though they never would heal.

"What are you looking at?" he growled, and she forced herself to concentrate on him.

"So… your name is?" she asked.

"Not so fast," he said slowly, and her eyes narrowed. At her reaction, he placed more pressure on her chest, and she gasped as his wand dug into her neck further.

"All right, all right, all right!" she said, raising her hands. "Please! I'm unarmed. If you're not a Death Eater, I have less to worry about. Please. I'm a Muggleborn."

"A Muggleborn, eh? Why haven't I seen you around Hogwarts before?"

"I have every right to be at my school, even if it's the holidays!" Hermione said indignantly, and the stranger raised his eyebrows.

"_Your_ school?" he asked. "Unless you're wearing a Glamour… believe me, I've never seen you before."

"Who are you?" she asked back, and he rolled his eyes.

"Fine then," he said, his tone suggesting that he felt very put-upon. Hermione almost rolled her own eyes. "My name is Moody. Alastor Moody."

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Okay, this story is an experiment. I've only found two stories about Hermione and Moody within the 'Romance' genre. **Of course, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this in the end. As I said, it's an experiment.**

**So, just out of interest, what do you think so far? Not that I've got to the 'romance' bit yet, so don't write the relationship off quite yet.**

**Read & Review, please!**


	2. Moody's Interrogation

"Moody's Interrogation"

"_Who are you?" she asked back, and he rolled his eyes._

"_Fine then," he said, his tone suggesting that he felt very put-upon. Hermione almost rolled her own eyes. "My name is Moody. Alastor Moody."_

It took all of Hermione's willpower not to faint when her attacker said his name. It's just a coincidence, she thought repeatedly, shutting her eyes and re-opening them several times in a row. Each time she opened them, she saw that he was still there, looking more annoyed with every second.

"Well?" Moody asked, leaning even more into his arm. Hermione gulped, and eyed his wand before returning her gaze to his face.

"Uh… hello," she said, and she swallowed yet again. He raised a single eyebrow, and relieved the pressure of his wand a bit.

"Got a problem with my name?" he said. "Certainly seems like it."

"N-no!" Hermione exclaimed, waving her arms as best she could. He growled at her sudden movements, and the wand was once again digging into her skin. "Please, Mr. Moody. Don't hurt me! I just need to… who's the h-headmaster?"

"Albus Dumbledore," Moody said, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Can you take me to see him?"

"I'm checking you for weapons first," he said, stepping back from her. Before she could realise what was going on, he grabbed her by one arm, swung her around and forced her into the wall. She gasped at the movement, and then again when, after he put away his own wand, began to feel the sides of her body, checking for weapons the Muggle way. She shivered as his hands went down her legs.

"Bag," he said, and she almost kicked him, until she realised that he wanted to check her bag, and wasn't actually calling her a 'bag'.

"Well, uh," she began, but he had already grabbed it out of her right hand. "Hey!"

"Quiet, Miss Granger," he said gruffly, opening the bag. His eyes widened when he saw everything that was in there, and he looked back up at her.

"I'm going on a long journey, and I was just here to… to…"

"To what?"

"I needed to see the headmaster, and got lost," she said, lying through her teeth, hoping that he wouldn't notice. Was this _really_ Alastor Moody? The one that she knew? His hair wasn't as grizzly as it was in later years, and his nose was intact. He had fewer scars, and both eyes. He also had both legs, she noted, glad that she finally had a chance to view him properly. To be quite frank, he was certainly a sight for sore eyes, and she smiled to herself.

"Here's your wand," he said, and he picked it up, eyes on her all the time. "No funny business. I'll be right behind you the entire time. I warn you; I'm quick, and can stun you before you touch your wand."

"Look, it's in clear view," she said, placing it where he could see it, tucked through her belt. "I'm not going to try anything. I wouldn't dare. Believe me."

"No," he said shortly. "You're a stranger who has somehow got into Hogwarts, claiming that you go here, and then saying that you need to see the headmaster, after having to ask _who_ he is. What year are you supposed to be in?"

"I-I've just finished my sixth year," she said, gulping as he prodded her with his wand to make her start walking. "This is a matter I urgently need to discuss with Professor Dumbledore. I'm… I'm supposed to start at Hogwarts after having… having moved back to England. We moved to France when I was nine, and I went to Beauxbatons; but now we're back here. My family and me, I mean. I couldn't remember the headmaster's name; after living in France, you get used to… well, less English names."

As she made up her story, they continued to the headmaster's office. Once there, Moody said the password ("Sugar quills, the barmy old coot…"), and they went upstairs, where he knocked on Albus Dumbledore's door.

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Why do people always have to see Dumbledore when they travel through time, at least while he's at Hogwarts in some capacity? Ah, the trials of being the all-knowing headmaster that everyone's supposed to trust.


	3. Facing the Headmaster

"Facing the Headmaster"

_As she made up her story, they continued to the headmaster's office. Once there, Moody said the password ("Sugar quills, the barmy old coot…"), and they went upstairs, where he knocked on Albus Dumbledore's door._

"Professor Dumbledore?" Moody asked as they entered. His hand was clenched over Hermione's arm, and he half-dragged her into the room. Dumbledore looked up from his papers, and smiled pleasantly at the two of them.

"Ah; you've brought a friend, have you, Mr. Moody?" he said.

"I… I've come to see you, sir," Hermione said before Moody could speak. "I would have made an appointment, but… uh, perhaps we could talk alone?" She blushed, hoping that Moody wouldn't take it the wrong way. He just shrugged.

"I checked her for weapons," he told the headmaster. "She suddenly appeared through a doorway, and claims to be Muggleborn. Among other things."

"This should be interesting," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Well, I'm perfectly safe, I'm sure. Thank you, Mr. Moody."

"Headmaster." He let go of Hermione's arm, and stalked out of the room.

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, holding back her tears at seeing her deceased headmaster right in front of her. She swallowed bravely, and continued. "My name is Hermione Granger. My family and I have just moved back to England." She kept the story she had told Moody at the forefront of her mind. "We've been living in France since I was nine. Now that I'm back, I… well, we… we were hoping that I could come and finish my education at Hogwarts. I'm in my sixth year. Would it… would it be a terrible inconvenience if I stayed here?"

"Of course not, my dear," Dumbledore said, sparkling with kindness. "Now, where are your parents?"

"I'm Muggleborn, so they've… they've had to go into hiding," she said. This wasn't something she was prepared for, and hated having to think this quickly. How long was she supposed to be here? "Because of the threat from L-lord V-voldemort. In fact, I'm afraid that… my name isn't _really_ Hermione Granger. I've had to adopt a name from somewhere in the family tree. _Way_ back in the family tree; I've no idea where."

"Have you any of your things with you?"

"Y-yes, but not in a trunk. They're in… well, they're in this bag," she admitted, and handed it over. Dumbledore was impressed.

"You must have done well at your last school," he said. "Beauxbatons?"

Hermione, grateful that she had kept up a correspondence with Fleur Delacour since her fourth year, nodded. "I should be all set," she said as Dumbledore handed back the bag.

"Indeed you should be," he said. "You will need to be sorted, of course."

"Of course," Hermione said, and Dumbledore Summoned the Sorting Hat.

_Miss Granger, is it? Well, you're certainly intelligent. Brave, kind. But you're also scheming, aren't you? You would do well in any house_.

_Which house is Moody in?_ Hermione thought casually.

_Gryffindor. You wish to be near him_?

_He… he showed me the way here, so yes. It will be nice to know someone from my house already_.

_Very well, then. GRYFFINDOR_!

"Very good, Miss Granger!" Dumbledore exclaimed, and he put the Sorting Hat back on its shelf. "I was in Gryffindor myself. And Mr. Moody is in Gryffindor." He looked at Hermione slyly over the top of his glasses, but she didn't notice. She was just relieved to be in the same house as before.

"Thank you, sir," she said politely.

"Only a few weeks left before the school year starts," Dumbledore said. "Which classes would you like?"

"Oh, anything that doesn't involve reading tea leaves or palms," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. The headmaster chuckled. "Nor do I need to do any kind of subject that studies Muggles. A bit redundant, being a Muggleborn."

"What field were you going to go into?"

"Well, my friends were going to become Aurors, and I think the plan was for me to study with them," she said. "So I guess… whatever subjects needed to become an Auror. The earlier tests that you do… what are they called?"

"The O.W.L.s?" he offered.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "I did well in those, and got full marks for most of the subjects; just not the defence subject. I'm all right at it, but I could certainly be better. I practically _lived_ in the school library!"

"Well, I'll give you the subjects that you need to become an Auror, and _only_ those subjects," Dumbledore said, pulling over a blank piece of parchment and a quill. "As a new student, you shouldn't be overloaded."

Particularly as I wasn't even going to continue my education, she thought, watching the headmaster write down her name. He tapped his wand on the parchment, and a timetable appeared.

"Ah!" he said. "The same as Mr. Moody's timetable. Well, that's good. He can show you around the castle, in that case."

"G-good," Hermione said, wondering what she'd got herself into.

"Well, now," Dumbledore said, standing. "It's lunchtime, so would you like to accompany me? I can introduce you to the other professors."

Hermione nodded, and followed him out of the office.

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Hmm. The chapter was getting a bit long there. Still enjoying the story? I hope so.


	4. Meeting People

"Meeting People"

"_Well, now," Dumbledore said, standing. "It's lunchtime, so would you like to accompany me? I can introduce you to the other professors."_

_Hermione nodded, and followed him out of the office._

They didn't see anyone on their way to the Great Hall, as there weren't many students around during the holidays, and the ones who _were _around were all either at lunch already, or outside, savouring the sunshine.

"Here you are," he murmured as they made their way down the staircase. He handed over a copy of the _Prophet_, which looked different to the one in Hermione's day, a different format. She looked at the date to orient herself. It was July 28, 1965. Thirty-two years difference. Huh. The Marauders would all be five, or turning five. Twenty-five years before she was born. She wondered where Arthur and Molly Weasley would be in this time.

So I was 'born' in… 1948, she thought, and put the newspaper in her bag to read later.

"Ah! Minerva," Dumbledore said as they entered the Great Hall by the teacher's entrance. "We have a new student, in Gryffindor."

Alastor Moody had looked up when the headmaster came into the hall, assuming that the new student—Miss Granger, wasn't it?—would be with him. So, she was in the same house as him, eh? How interesting… He'd be able to keep an eye on her. And a new student. Whatever happened to the long journey she was supposed to be taking? Well, there was only one way to find out more about her, and that was to take her under his proverbial wing, and make 'friends' with her.

"Very nice to meet you, Professor," Hermione said, shaking Professor McGonagall's hand politely.

"Professor McGonagall is the head of Gryffindor house," Dumbledore explained, and Minerva smiled reassuringly at her new charge. "This is Hermione Granger."

"Welcome to Hogwarts, _and_ to Gryffindor, Miss Granger," Minerva said. "There are still a few students around during the holidays. The Head Boy is in Gryffindor, and he's here at the moment. Alastor Moody."

"Oh! He's the one who found me!" Hermione said. She'd had no idea that Moody was Head Boy in his day.

"Found you?" Minerva asked, and Dumbledore explained Hermione's 'circumstances'.

"Now, go and have some lunch, Miss Granger," he finished, shooing Hermione to the Gryffindor table. She smiled at some of the curious students she passed, and ended up sitting across from Moody.

"Hello again," she chirped, settling down. He looked up at her, and nodded. "Talkative, aren't you?"

"It would be redundant to greet you again when it wasn't that long ago that we met," he said as Hermione started to butter a roll.

"I didn't know you were Head Boy," she continued, ignoring his statement. "But then, I wasn't exactly looking for the badge that I now see on your collar." She pointed with her knife, and he glanced down at the badge.

"Is it so hard to believe?" he asked, looking back up at her. She was busily eating, not realising just how hungry she was by now.

"How should I know? I don't know you," she said, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Hmph," he muttered, and he stopped eating. Instead, he just watched her intently, trying to get some idea of what she was really doing at Hogwarts.

Hermione eventually finished eating, and had a drink. It was then that she noticed that Moody hadn't moved one inch, and was staring at her. She swallowed, and placed her goblet back on the table.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "You tell me. For example, why did you tell me that you were going on a long trip, when you're clearly not going anywhere?"

Hermione thought fast… yet again. She covered it by casually having another sip of pumpkin juice.

"Professor Dumbledore convinced me to stay here, as it would be safer than trying to go into hiding," she said. "From You-Know-Who, I mean."

"Yes, I realise that," he said. His eyes never left her face, and Hermione could feel a blush coming on. She ducked her head, and began to fiddle with her bag.

"Have you… is there a good library here?" she asked him, reverting to one topic that never failed to satisfy her.

"Of course."

"…Could you show me where it is?"

"There's a world outside of books," Moody said, judging her to be the bookworm type. After all, why else would she think of a library when she was flustered? Why on earth was she blushing?

"Yes, I realise that," she said, unconsciously echoing his words from before. "But until I can get the books I need for classes, I'll need to start studying somehow. Is it a _very_ good library?"

"Of course it is," he said. With another put-upon sigh, he stood. "Very well. I'll show you there."

"Thank you," Hermione said, beaming, and she followed him out of the Great Hall, remembering to keep behind him so that she wouldn't be tempted to lead, and give herself away.

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Hmm. What do you all think? Read & Review, dear ones.

**We're seeing more and more of Moody's trademark paranoia. However shall Hermione survive this?**


	5. Falling in the Library

"Falling in the Library"

"_Of course it is," he said. With another put-upon sigh, he stood. "Very well. I'll show you there."_

"_Thank you," Hermione said, beaming, and she followed him out of the Great Hall, remembering to keep behind him so that she wouldn't be tempted to lead, and give herself away._

Moody set a fast pace to the library, which fortunately gave Hermione no opportunity to lead; but it certainly left her panting by the time they reached the library, and Moody glanced behind him as he reached for the door handle.

"You right?" he asked gruffly, and she nodded, catching her breath. "Sorry. I'm not use to walking much slower than that."

Not until you lose your leg, she thought sadly, and she smiled.

"That's all right," she said, and she put a hand on his arm. He immediately jerked it away, sending her a suspicious look, and she pulled her hand back.

"S-sorry," she said, and he hauled the door open. He gestured her forward very abruptly, and she slipped past quickly, murmuring her thanks. He grunted, and led her to the desk.

"This is Madame Pince, the new librarian," he said. Madame Pince glanced up, and Hermione almost gasped at how young she looked.

"H-hello," she stammered. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Irma Pince," Madame Pince said, and she shook Hermione's hand, smiling pleasantly, which surprised the girl. Something must have happened in the intervening years to turn her sour, and Hermione wondered what it was. If only she could do something about it… but it would be unethical, wouldn't it?

What's unethical about improving people's lives? Hermione thought to herself as Moody led her to the tables.

"Right," he said, waving his hand about. "This is where you can come to study, do work, read, and the like."

"Indeed," Hermione said, amused at his short explanation.

"There are armchairs where you can read as well, over there," he said. "And then the shelves of books. Self-explanatory, really."

"So we can read any of the books?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Well, no," he said, and he led her to the locked gate of the Restricted Section. "These ones you can't. Only teachers, and the Head Boy and Girl, can access these books. Prefects can get permission, yes; but no one else."

"So… _you_ can read them," she said.

"Of course I can! Now, come on. I'd better show you around the rest of the castle."

"Thank you," Hermione said; and as they left the library, Madame Pince waving cheerfully as they passed her desk and Hermione waving in reply, she thought about how the candlelight made Moody's hair look so soft, made his eyes look so much darker… In general, it drew her attention to how attractive he really was at this age, and she sighed as he closed the door behind them. She couldn't be falling for the ex-Auror. A crush, maybe…

No! she told herself. Just… aesthetic appreciation. Nothing more.

"Miss Granger?" he said, catching her attention.

"Y-yes?" she replied, forgetting her last thought immediately.

"You sure you're all right?" he asked, looking her up and down.

"Never better," she said, and she smiled as she followed him to Gryffindor Tower.

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I'm sorry that you're getting the Hogwarts Tour (5 knuts a time… or not) in these opening chapters, but I'm trying to establish a relationship between them at the moment, giving me more time to decide how best to proceed with the story itself.

**Never fear! I shall persevere!**


	6. Meet the 'Parents'

"Meet the 'Parents'"

"_Miss Granger?" he said, catching her attention._

"_Y-yes?" she replied, forgetting her last thought immediately._

"_You sure you're all right?" he asked, looking her up and down. _

"_Never better," she said, and she smiled as she followed him to Gryffindor Tower._

It _had_ to be aesthetic appreciation. There sure as heck was a lot to appreciate. She smiled while she walked behind him, trying not to check him out too much, in case it was too obvious, in case he noticed. Moody was always so paranoid, that he was always on the alert—and, to be honest, he probably always thought that he was being watched. In fact, that could be a useful cover for her… 'checking out'.

"Here it is," he said, and Hermione smiled at the familiar sight of the Fat Lady in his portrait.

"Hello," she said to the lady, who curtsied. Hermione curtsied right back, wanting to make a good impression this time around. Moody snorted, and Hermione looked up in time to see him roll his eyes. She frowned at him when he looked back down, and he offered her his hand to stand up.

"Transfero Potentia," Moody grumbled to the Fat Lady, who smiled at him sardonically.

"All in good time, dear," she said. "I've yet to be introduced to this young lady."

"My name is Hermione Granger, and I'm the new seventh year Gryffindor," Hermione said.

"I am the Pink Lady, though I know they all call me the Fat Lady," she said, and she shrugged. "I can't help how I was painted."

"No indeed!" Hermione said. "What was your name in real life?"

"Amanda," she said.

"Then may I call you Lady Amanda?"

"Oh, of course you may, dear!" Amanda said, clapping her hands in delight. "_Now_ you may go in," she added, raising her eyebrows at Moody, who just rolled his eyes again and helped Hermione through the porthole into the common room.

"Weasley!" he barked, and Hermione jumped. A tall man rose from the couch, a man with red hair, who had had his arm around the shoulders of a girl who also had red hair.

Arthur and Molly Weasley! she thought excitedly, as the girl stood up to be introduced as well.

"This is Arthur, and his girlfriend, Molly," Moody said, and Hermione shook their hands, automatically thinking about Ron. She had been in love with Ron for the last few years, and had one day thought that they might marry. These were… could have been… her future parents-in-law. Incredible.

Would that all change now, being in the past? Particularly since she fancied Moody…

Good grief. She _did_ fancy him.

"Pleasure to meet you," Arthur said, shaking her hand enthusiastically, his familiar beaming smile plastered on.

"Hello!" Molly said, and she embraced Hermione, who nearly burst into tears. The Molly Weasley Comfort Hug would grow in strength over the years, but had the same strength of caring as in the future.

"I'm Hermione," she said. "I'm new here."

"She's in seventh year," Moody said, his arms crossed as he watched the scene in front of him. "Arthur's in sixth year, and Molly's in fifth. Both prefects."

"Congratulations," Hermione said, still blinking back the threatening tears.

"I'll show you up to the seventh year girls' dormies," Molly said. "Come this way!"

She grabbed Hermione's hand, and dragged her towards the stairs. The older girl—how strange to think of her as being older than her best friend's mother!—allowed herself to be pulled along, laughing as they climbed the steps.

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Sorry it's been awhile with this chapter. I can partly blame technical problems: internal errors with the documents (pah!), a rain storm knocking out the internet, the fact that I'm working on half a dozen other stories at the moment, the tennis.

**Okay, not the tennis. But the rest, certainly.**


	7. The Unsinkable Molly Prewett

"The Unsinkable Molly Prewett"

"_I'll show you up to the seventh year girls' dormies," Molly said. "Come this way!"_

_She grabbed Hermione's hand, and dragged her towards the stairs. The older girl—how strange to think of her as being older than her best friend's mother!—allowed herself to be pulled along, laughing as they climbed the steps._

"So how do you know Alastor?" Molly asked. "Oh, he didn't tell you my last name, did he? It's Prewett. Anyway, I'm sure you'll settle in fine. We're just as friendly—well, _almost_ as friendly—as the Hufflepuffs, so you needn't worry about people not accepting you straight away. You must be an all right sort to have been sorted into our fine house."

Not everyone who's in Gryffindor is a good person, Hermione thought, thinking about Peter Pettigrew.

"Have you read _Hogwarts: a History_ yet?" the younger girl asked, bouncing a little on the new bed that had been added for Hermione.

"Yes, I have," she replied. "I've been looking forward to going here for ages. I attended Beauxbatons since we moved to France when I was younger. Are the teachers good here?"

"Well, it depends on your definition of good," Molly said, swinging her legs now, as Hermione leant against the bedside table, smiling benignly. "I mean, if you consider a strict teacher to be a good teacher, or a 'soft' teacher to be a good teacher, or if you just hate teachers in general, which I certainly don't…"

"Breathe, Molly."

"Right-o! Anyway, the head of Gryffindor is Professor McGonagall, and she's strict, but fair. I know that sounds clichéd—'strict, but fair'—but it's true. She teaches Transfiguration. Are you any good at that?"

"I'm all right," Hermione said modestly. She didn't want to garner too much attention, so she'd probably have to turn down her know-it-all streak, and perhaps not do so well in classes.

Well, all right. That would be impossible for her.

She wondered what Professor Snape would think if he'd heard that thought.

Snape. Dumbledore's murderer. She grit her teeth in anger, but kept smiling as Molly chattered on.

"So what do you think of Alastor?" she finished slyly, and Hermione looked startled.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you seem to like him, and he's… well, not exactly _unlikeable_, just not that friendly, so it seems a bit inexplicable that you'd like him so soon. Unless, of course, you've known him awhile. Have you?"

"No. We only just met this evening, when he found me wandering around, lost. I'm a Muggleborn."

"Really?" Molly asked, fascinated. "You should talk to Arthur, then. He loves all things Muggle. And me." She blushed. "Well, he told me so, anyway."

"How romantic!" Hermione exclaimed, and she sat on her bed, back to the headboard, legs stretched out behind the younger girl. "How long have you two been together."

"Well, we've known each other since we were very young—all the pureblood families know each other, even if we don't necessarily like each other—but then two years ago, when I was in my third year, Arthur asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him. It turns out he'd been waiting until I was old enough to go to the village, and then got in to ask me before anyone else could. He's already asked me to the Christmas Ball in advance!"

"There's going to be a Christmas Ball?"

"Yes. There's one every year. It's actually spread over two days. The first evening is for the younger students, though the older students are allowed to come along if they have younger family members who might need supervision. Unfortunately, we've both got kid relatives in other houses, _including_ Slytherin, so we'll have to go along that night as well as the next night. Not that I mind; but you have to have _two_ dresses then! Anyway, the second night is for the older students."

"Sounds fun. I went to a ball in my fourth year. Mind you, the boy I liked didn't ask me, so I went with someone else. It was all right until the end of the evening. But," she added, remembering that this was Ron's mother she was talking to, "that's all over and done with now. Ancient history."

"I'm sure lots of boys will want to take you to the dance," Molly said dreamily, sitting back against the bed post. "Including Alastor. Well, he's head boy, so he has to go anyway."

"I won't hold my breath," Hermione said, but she couldn't help a small smile creeping onto her face. It _would_ be wonderful if he asked her to the dance. Maybe he would…

Don't kid yourself, Hermione, she thought. He'd never think to ask you.

**

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**

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just did some checking online, and found that not only have I got the dates wrong re. Molly and Arthur attending Hogwarts, but she's also older than him, not younger. Still, I suppose that since I've made similar mistakes in other stories, it doesn't matter too much. But I'll certainly be more careful in future, I promise. (And as I certainly can't change what I've done in this story so far… I'm sorry again.)


	8. Private Lessons

"Private Lessons"

"_I'm sure lots of boys will want to take you to the dance," Molly said dreamily, sitting back against the bed post. "Including Alastor. Well, he's head boy, so he has to go anyway."_

"_I won't hold my breath," Hermione said, but she couldn't help a small smile creeping onto her face. It would be wonderful if he asked her to the dance. Maybe he would…_

_Don't kid yourself, Hermione, she thought. He'd never think to ask you._

Several weeks passed. Hermione had settled in well, even once the rest of the students arrived, and she had been introduced to people she had only ever heard of from… well, from Moody himself, when showing off the picture of the Order of the Phoenix from the first Wizarding war. She found some of the classes to be quite a bit easier than in her time; in fact, the only class that was more difficult was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and that was understandable. In her time, they didn't—at first—need to know how to defend themselves as much. Also, they had a new teacher every year in her time.

She wondered who would have been the next DADA professor back in her time, since Snape had run away from his position after murdering Professor Dumbledore. But thinking on the past—er, future—would only make things worse.

Never having been the best in the DADA class, and as things were more difficult in _this_ time, she felt that she needed extra lessons. If ever she got back to her time, she would need to know as much as she could about defending herself, as she would hopefully be back in time to join in on the horcrux hunt. She wasn't _too_ bad, which unfortunately meant that she couldn't ask the teachers for private lessons. You had to be failing for that, and she was getting Exceeds Expectations.

Molly told her that the best student in school, when it came to Defence, was Moody; and she said that with a decided twinkle in her eyes, which Hermione chose to ignore. As he was the head boy, he had his own quarters, so she went there straight away, hearing Arthur and Molly giggling where they were curled up together on the couch.

Moody answered the door cautiously, and Hermione suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at his paranoid behaviour. Once he saw who it was, he opened the door the rest of the way, but still kept his eyes on her, wand at the ready.

"Where did we first meet?" he asked slowly.

"In a seventh floor corridor, when I was lost while trying to look for Professor Dumbledore's office," she said, and he reluctantly let her into his quarters. The head girl's rooms were next door, which led to Moody's second question.

"So why are you here?" he said, crossing his arms as he nodded towards a seat. Once she had sat down, he sat opposite, looking her up and down while he waited for her answer.

"Well, being a Muggleborn—and a perfectionist—I was hoping to get private lessons in Defence Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "But because I'm not failing the class, I can't _have_ private lessons. Also, because I want to be an Auror, I feel as though I need to be better at Defence."

"You want to be an Auror?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, my friends and I had planned to become Aurors," she said, feeling tears welling up at the thought of Harry and Ron, but forcing them back down. "I think they would be better suited to the job; but, having better marks in the other classes, I would have had a better chance at getting in with the right number of N.E.."

"I see."

"And it's important that the Ministry has as many Aurors at its disposal as it can get, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"So… I thought that I could ask you for help. Ask if you could teach me how to defend myself a bit better. Molly told me that you're the best in the school, and I have no doubt that she's right."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Hmm… I guess I could help you. If you help me in return, naturally."

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "Whatever you need."

"How about help with my written assignments?" he asked, studying her. "I could certainly use some help with them, even if they're all right at the moment, but we need the higher marks in the N.E. to get into the Auror Department at the Ministry, as you said. If you could check my essays for mistakes before I had them in, then I can certainly teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts. Is it a deal?"

"Yes, Moody. It's a deal."

**

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**

Sorry this chapter's been awhile in coming. I've been debating over what to do, and I've got some great notes that are relevant

**Okay, I've also got to tell you all about this book that will be coming out in some months time. It's called _London's Burning_, and it's by an Australian chap called David Byerlee. I helped him reduce the word length of the novel, and it's being published by Caffeine Nights. It involves politics, people trafficking, religion, and terrorism. So if this kind of thing interests you, keep an eye out for when it's released, and contact me if you have any inquiries.**

_**much**_** later on in the story… but not necessarily anything that can help me at this stage, so I've got to make things up in my head, and keep them there, for the time being. I'll try to focus a bit more on the time travel aspect until we can get to the proper stage; how does that sound?**


	9. In Advance

"In Advance"

"_Hmm… I guess I could help you. If you help me in return, naturally."_

"_Of course!" she exclaimed. "Whatever you need."_

"_How about help with my written assignments?" he asked, studying her. "I could certainly use some help with them, even if they're all right at the moment, but we need the higher marks in the N.E. to get into the Auror Department at the Ministry, as you said. If you could check my essays for mistakes before I had them in, then I can certainly teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts. Is it a deal?"_

"_Yes, Moody. It's a deal."_

Both their marks improved; Moody began to write better essays, understanding the elements of report-writing better than before; and Hermione began to improve in Defence Against the Dark Arts, as Moody explained the dark arts to her without giving her a chance to be tempted—and ultimately corrupted—by Dark magic.

Their private lessons in the Room of Requirement got longer and longer, as they enjoyed themselves so much that they often lost track of time. In Moody's case, he enjoyed the increased feeling of power that came with teaching such a willing student and the improved marks for his assignments. And in Hermione's case, she enjoyed the learning, the teaching, and the time spent with her secret crush.

At the end of one session, while Hermione was wiping herself down with a towel provided to her by the Room of Requirement, Moody watched her with a thoughtful expression on his face, following the towel's movements carefully. Hermione knew better than to think that he was checking her out; he was just watching to make sure that she didn't make any sudden movements to attack him. Ridiculous, his paranoia. If she didn't fear what he might do in response, she would have shouted 'constant vigilance' to see his reaction. He certainly shouted it at her enough for some retaliation to be in order.

"I know this is months in advance," he finally said, and she turned to him, folding the towel to place back on the shelf where it had appeared. "But I figured I might as well ask you now. Will you go to the ball with me? You know, the Christmas Ball?"

"I… I'd be honoured," Hermione said, blushing. Molly had been right. He had asked her to go with him! "I'd love to. Th-thank you for asking me."

"You're welcome," he said. "Ready to return to the dorms now?"

She nodded, and they left the room after doing some Refreshing Charms, so that no one would get 'the wrong idea', as Moody put it. Hermione had blushed the first time he had said that, so much so that he never said it again.

They got to the Common Room in good time, to find only Molly and Arthur waiting there, almost asleep on the couch, curled up together as they often were.

It's definitely a marriage—_will_ be a marriage—of love, Hermione thought enviously. But hang on! Why was she jealous? Moody had asked her to the ball, which meant that he liked her back!

"Good night, then," he said, waking Arthur and Molly from their half-sleep.

"Good night, Alastor," Hermione said, smiling. "I'm glad… I'm glad that you like me back."

"Eh?"

"Well, you asked me to the ball, and I'm glad, because it means that you like me, just like I like you."

"But I don't," he said bluntly, tilting his head in confusion. "It's just that you don't know many people here yet, and thought that you'd prefer to go with someone you know, who isn't already taken." He nodded towards Arthur and Molly, who were watching the scene before them, dumbfounded. "I don't… _fancy_ you. I was asking you as a friend. But the invitation still stands."

"R-right then," Hermione said, determinedly holding back tears. "Well, I'll s-see you in the morning. Good… good night." With that, she ran up the stairs to the girl's dormitory.

**

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**

Well, she's got the invitation, like so many of you wanted. Pity the chapter had to end like this, and I apologise. Just don't roast me yet. After all, she's already known him from the Order, _**and **_**she's had crushes before. He clearly isn't used to having feelings like that about anyone—at least not in this story. Also, he's too paranoid to let anyone into his life at this stage… but there's room for that later.**

**There are two ways this could go, not that I'm revealing either at this stage. Both have different paths going off them, so we'll see where the story goes, shall we?**


	10. Closer to the Ball

"Closer to the Ball"

"_Well, you asked me to the ball, and I'm glad, because it means that you like me, just like I like you."_

"_But I don't," he said bluntly, tilting his head in confusion. "It's just that you don't know many people here yet, and thought that you'd prefer to go with someone you know, who isn't already taken." He nodded towards Arthur and Molly, who were watching the scene before them, dumbfounded. "I don't… fancy you. I was asking you as a friend. But the invitation still stands."_

"_R-right then," Hermione said, determinedly holding back tears. "Well, I'll s-see you in the morning. Good… good night." With that, she ran up the stairs to the girl's dormitory._

Weeks of tension passed. Hermione stuck close to Arthur and Molly whenever she emerged from the library. The private lessons were shorter, and few and far between, as Hermione grew further away from Moody. She felt foolish about having admitted to her surprisingly irrational feelings. Had she been disoriented with the time travel? She had forgotten that he attended Hogwarts with the Weasleys, as he always looked so much older than he really was.

"How awkward," she murmured while she was flipping through a Transfiguration textbook, not really looking at it. "Ron and Harry left behind… and yet forward. And I'm here with Ron's parents. Why did this have to happen? It's hardly the fairytale ending that I always hoped for, yet never truly believe in; it's not even the fairytale _beginning_. Cinderella, Snow White, The Little Mermaid… all of them full of magic. I'm attending a magic school, and hardly living a fairytale."

Moody, who had come looking for her, listened. What was she talking about?

"Stupid Room of Requirement. It's illogical. Who falls in love at first sight? Well, no one, since _he_ doesn't feel the same way. I've probably just romanticised things because he's dead. The same thing would have happened if I'd gone back to the _Marauders_ time after Sirius died."

She sighed. Moody's mind was reeling. What on earth was she on about? Travelling through time was impossible. Maybe she'd been Confunded by Death Eaters, or had some kind of schizophrenia. Perhaps she was a pathological liar? But unless she knew that he was there… No, she couldn't. There was no way she could.

He waited a few minutes, shuffled his feet, and then cleared his throat. She stopped muttering, and turned around, drawing her wand. She relaxed only marginally, before tensing up again as he approached. Her hands trembled as she shut the book, causing her to drop the side accidentally. The loud slam made her jump, and Madame Pince good-naturedly shushed her.

"I came to tell you something," Moody said, and Hermione looked up at him with sad eyes, only half-hoping that it could be something along the lines of 'I _do_ like you'.

It wasn't.

"As it turns out, as head boy, I have to go with the head girl. To the ball."

"Oh."

"See, while I've been at Hogwarts, the head boy and girl have generally been going together anyway, or haven't got a girlfriend or boyfriend, so I thought it was just that. I didn't realise that it was compulsory. Typically, the prefects don't have to go together; just the head boy and girl."

"Oh."

"Well, can't you say anything else?" he asked.

"Only a bit. It's all right, Moody," she said. She had stopped calling him 'Alastor' ever since the night he had invited her to the Christmas Ball.

"Will you go with someone else, then?"

"Yes," she lied, and he nodded. He left the library without another word, never noticing the tears that had started to fall.

Hermione didn't have anyone else.

**

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**

Cripes, will I never get rid of the angst? Anyway, you'll find out soon enough what happens… and what Moody will do with what he's learned.


	11. Dresses

"Dresses"

In hindsight, Hermione shouldn't have spent so much time with Arthur and Molly, as they'd remember her by the time she returned to the nineties… _if_ she managed to return to her own time. She certainly should have spent more time with other people, people who she'd never met in her time. Hell, she should have gone to a completely different house! But no, she had to go and screw things up. Well, if ever she found a way to return to her time, she'd make sure to Obliviate as much people as possible. In fact, she'd probably need help from Professor Dumbledore.

Which meant that she'd have to tell the truth.

They went to Hogsmeade one day, she and Molly. The younger girl wanted to pick out a dress for the upcoming Christmas Ball; "Spare no expense" her family had told her, and she was by no means a disobedient girl, as she joked to Hermione.

"What about _your_ dress?" Molly asked as they looked over the outfits in the store.

"I'll find something closer to the time," she mumbled, flicking through the outfits as well, though only to help Molly.

"It's getting closer and closer," she warned. "You must have something, Hermione. You wouldn't want to disappoint your date, would you?"

"No, wouldn't want that."

"I'm sure we can find something that Alastor will like…"

"He won't be the one wearing it!" Hermione snapped, and Molly stopped in her tracks, looking at Hermione in shock.

"I didn't mean…"

"I know," she said, and she sighed. "I'm sorry, Molly. It's just… he has to go with the head girl, which means that I haven't got a date. Yet." Ever, she added to herself.

"Oh," Molly said, looking at her feet. "I didn't know. I'm sorry, `Mione."

"Don't worry about it," the older girl said, forcing herself to smile. "Let's pick out something that'll make Arthur's jaw drop—and possibly never come back up again—and then I'll treat you to some butterbeer. What do you say?"

"Good idea!" Molly said, cheering up. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm sure you'll find a date in no time."

**

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**

Ah, but things are never that simple, are they? Just wait and see…


	12. The Christmas Ball, Part 1

"The Christmas Ball, Part 1"

"_Don't worry about it," the older girl said, forcing herself to smile. "Let's pick out something that'll make Arthur's jaw drop—and possibly never come back up again—and then I'll treat you to some butterbeer. What do you say?"_

"_Good idea!" Molly said, cheering up. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm sure you'll find a date in no time."_

Hermione had realised the perfect plan. She fully intended to return to her time; but until she had worked out just _how_ to do that, she needed to come up with an excuse for the similarity in appearance… oh, to heck with it. She shouldn't have been so foolish to go around using her _real_ name, her name from the future.

She decided to take a leaf out of the book of Harry Potter. So he looked a lot like his father? Well, she could look like her mother! Or even grandmother! Let's see… yes, it would have to be mother. Or second-cousin. Or perhaps even aunt. Yes… that would make more sense. Maybe.

Molly was the only one who knew that Hermione didn't have a date for the ball. She had tried to convince her to go along anyway, as she might be able to dance with Moody; but to no avail.

"Then have fun sulking tonight," she told the older girl while getting dressed. Hermione helped her do up the back of the dress. It was a deep, Gryffindor red, falling to a few inches above the knees, with a square-cut neckline. A pattern of small flowers on vines was embroidered down the front, continuing down the skirt, and the thread was a dark, royal blue. Molly wore red lipstick, lightly-dusted red blush, and eye shadow that started blue and then fanned out to red.

"You'll knock Arthur off his feet," Hermione declared when Molly twirled around on red dancing shoes.

"I thought he was supposed to knock _me_ off _my_ feet!" she exclaimed, and burst out laughing as she continued to twirl. "Do you think he's ready yet?"

"I'll go and check," Hermione said, leaving the room with a grin. Her best friend's mother looked absolutely stunning, even if she was only fifteen, and she was so honoured to be witnessing the courtship of Arthur and Molly Weasley.

The advantage of Moody being Head Boy was that he would change in his own rooms, which meant that she didn't even have to see him at all that evening. Of course, the next day would probably be different; but then the ball for the older students was the next _night_, so she'd get another reprieve then.

She knocked at the door to the boy's dorms. Fortunately, Arthur answered the door, resplendent in… actually, half-way-to-shabby dress robes. Hermione raised an eyebrow, and he blushed.

"And you didn't come to me earlier about this… _why_?" she said, drawing her wand. Before he could say anything, she was casting a few of the spells she had learnt before they were supposed to leave on the horcrux hunt, spells to repair and smarten clothes. After all, she wouldn't have had the time or the resources to fix clothes _normally_ while camping. She was blessing herself for learning those things right now as she improved Arthur's robes. He finally looked up with a smile.

"You'll have to teach me how to do that, you know," he said. "Molly's family doesn't think much of mine because we're not… you know…"

"Yes," she said. "I know. Never mind, Arthur. I'll help you if I can."

"Thanks," he said. "Then I guess I'm ready."

"Go and wait in the common room at the bottom of the stairs, then," she said. "I'll fetch Molly. Oh, and be prepared to hold onto something to stop yourself from keeling over."

"That good?" he asked shyly, his eyes twinkling.

"Better," Hermione said, grinning back, and they went their separate ways.

**

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**

Who actually wants Arthur's reaction? I guess I could put it in a flashback in the next chapter; or I could have it right at the start. What do you reckon? Let me know, fair readers of mine.


	13. The Christmas Ball, Part 2

"The Christmas Ball, Part 2"

"_Go and wait in the common room at the bottom of the stairs, then," she said. "I'll fetch Molly. Oh, and be prepared to hold onto something to stop yourself from keeling over."_

"_That good?" he asked shyly, his eyes twinkling._

"_Better," Hermione said, grinning back, and they went their separate ways._

The majority of the younger students were in dress robes, with only a small number of girls in dresses, and even fewer boys in suits. Those students, naturally, were Muggleborns. The teachers were also in dress robes.

Moody looked around the room as he entered with the Head Girl, Tabitha West, on his arm. She looked, in his opinion, quite decent in her gold robes. The shockingly high slits either side didn't do much for her, but the tight bust certainly accentuated her more formidable… assets.

They led the dancing, Tabitha trying to joke good-naturedly. Why did Moody have to be the Head Boy? He just didn't get any joy out of life. And yet he seemed to be almost _distracted_ tonight, which was unusual in itself.

"Moody? Are you even paying attention?" she asked, purposefully stepping on his left foot.

"To your senseless and meaningless attempts to distract me with your own strained form of humour? Most certainly not."

"How do you know that it was senseless and meaningless if you weren't listening?" Tabitha said, grinning. She was used to his blunt attitude, and wasn't _really_ offended. It would have been nice if he had been polite, but she knew better than to expect that.

"Stop stepping on my foot, girl!" he growled as she stumbled.

"Okay, _that_ time it was an accident," she said. He muttered some unintelligible. "Smile; we're nearing the teachers," she added as they continued to dance around the hall with the prefects and their partners. Moody gave her a look which plainly said that he had absolutely no intention of smiling, teachers or no teachers.

At the end of the number, Tabitha did an exaggerated curtsy, and Moody inclined his head in response, before grasping her elbow to lead her off the floor. Molly and Arthur were making their way into the hall, and he waved them over, hoping for some half-way decent conversation with someone he didn't see every morning and every night. It was worse than he imagined marriage to be.

"Great dancing, Alastor," Arthur told him, and Moody just grunted at him.

"You look terrific, Tabitha," Molly said.

"And you… in that dress… you look so grown-up, Molly! I remember when you were just a little girl. What do you think, Arthur?" the Head Girl asked.

"She makes anything look wonderful," he said, looking at Molly adoringly. Moody rolled his eyes.

"And on that note, I need a drink," he said, and he stalked off towards the table.

He kept his eyes open for Hermione, wondering who her date was, so that he could ask her for a dance. After all, if it wasn't for tradition, he would have brought her. They would have had to dance then.

But, try as he might, he just couldn't find her. Fortunately, his well-known paranoia was a great cover for scoping the crowd of students. Nope. She wasn't here. Why not?

Of course, he told himself. She'll be here tomorrow night. Still, I may as well ask about her… just in case.

When Arthur and Molly got close enough in the slow number that was playing, he called out to them, breaking the romantic mood. Not that he noticed, let alone cared.

"Where's Granger?" he asked Molly.

"She doesn't have to come tonight," she replied. "Not that it would matter anyway. She's not coming tomorrow night either, because she doesn't have a date."

"She what?" Moody said, startled.

"She doesn't have a date, not that she was encouraging anyone," Arthur said, as Molly had told him all about it… at least, once he'd regained his focus after seeing her.

"Ah." Moody was silent for a few minutes, before walking over to the punch. The happy couple looked at each other, shrugged, and continued their dance.

**

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**

I'm not entirely sure what it means yet. When I work it out, I'll get back to you.


	14. In the Room of Requirement

"In the Room of Requirement"

"_She what?" Moody said, startled._

"_She doesn't have a date, not that she was encouraging anyone," Arthur said, as Molly had told him all about it… at least, once he'd regained his focus after seeing her._

"_Ah." Moody was silent for a few minutes, before walking over to the punch. The happy couple looked at each other, shrugged, and continued their dance._

At one break in the dancing, while he was instead watching the students and nibbling on cheese and crackers, Moody was approached by Dumbledore.

"Mr. Moody," he said, and he grunted in response. "Do you want to know why I made you Head Boy?"

"Because I'm the best at defence," he replied, still watching the students, wondering where this was going, and why it was being brought up now.

"Precisely," Dumbledore said. "We needed your strength, your confidence, to help us protect the students. These are admirable traits. You have skills that most people would envy, and I predict that you will become, with very little effort, one of the greatest Aurors of our time. Perhaps of all time."

The student was silent for a few minutes. "Thanks," he finally said.

"But there's something lacking. You may be strong physically and mentally; but without emotional strength, you'll find life very hard. You need someone. A… companion."

"You mean a _girlfriend_?" he said incredulously.

"Or… whatever," Dumbledore replied.

"No one's ever peaked my interest," Moody admitted with a shrug.

"Until now."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a girl who should be here, or at least at the ball tomorrow night," Dumbledore said. "If I'd known that you had already invited her, I would have waived the rule this once. It's important for you to have love in your life."

"Love?" Moody said. He snorted. "What is it with you and love, Dumbledore?"

"You need to trust somebody sometime," he said. "I'll tell you what. Tabitha knows of a boy who wants to take her to the ball tomorrow night. As a favour, I could change the rule so that the Head Boy and Girl only have to go together for the first night. I'm sure that Miss Granger would appreciate it."

"She doesn't have a dress…"

"She can Transfigure something," someone said. It was Arthur Weasley. He and Molly were standing there, looking somewhat ashamed, but still having to suppress smiles.

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked.

"She can do clothing charms," he explained. "These robes were certainly in a worse state than they are now," he admitted, blushing. "She fixed them up for me."

"You mean she can come to the ball now, Professor Dumbledore?" Molly asked, delighted.

"If she's still willing to go with me," Moody muttered. "Fine. I'll go and ask her. Anyone know where she is?"

"Try the Gryffindor Tower," Arthur said.

"What have you two been _doing_?" the Head Boy asked, noting Molly's ruffled dress and the smudges of dirt on Arthur's dress robes.

"N-nothing," they muttered, and they hurried away. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Ah," he said. "Young love." He looked pointedly at Moody, who rolled his eyes.

"I'm going, I'm going," he said.

She wasn't in the Gryffindor common room, and Molly reported that she wasn't in the girls' dormitories.

I wonder, he thought, and he ran to the seventh floor.

It was where they had met. But he couldn't see her. He began to pace up and down, thinking to himself 'I need to find her'. In his agitation, he didn't notice the door appearing, until he threw up his hands in frustration.

"Damn her… what's this?"

When he opened the door, wand at the ready, he was surprised to see what looked like a child's bedroom. There were toys, bookshelves, a bed… and a girl sitting on the bed, staring listlessly at her hands. She looked up, tears in her eyes.

"Hermione?"

**

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**

Okay, ending this chapter here. I have no idea how long the story will be; you know, how many chapters. We'll just see where it goes, shall we?


	15. The Invitation Still Stands

"The Invitation Still Stands"

"_Damn her… what's this?"_

_When he opened the door, wand at the ready, he was surprised to see what looked like a child's bedroom. There were toys, bookshelves, a bed… and a girl sitting on the bed, staring listlessly at her hands. She looked up, tears in her eyes._

"_Hermione?"_

"Hi, Moody."

"What are you doing here? And what _is_ this place?"

"It's my bedroom." She gave a hollow laugh, and swiped at the tears on her face. "I wanted to be reminded of home."

"This is your bedroom at home?" he asked, wandering around. He pulled a book off the shelves, and flipped through it.

"W-was," she said. "Anyway, what brings you here?"

"I came looking for y… Why does this say that it was printed in 1988?"

"What?" She leapt up in horror, and hurried over to him, trying to think of yet another lie to cover for herself. "Oh, _that_ book. Great story behind that—well, not _that_ great, but still funny. It was a printing error—should have said 1958—which no one actually noticed until a thousand or so copies had been sold. They tried to recall them; but as it was the day the book was released, and so many, like myself, bought it in-store, off the shelf, with cash… well, it was virtually impossible to get them all back. Not many people wanted to surrender them. It's kind of a collector's item."

"Fascinating," Moody said, losing interest, and he placed the book back on the shelf.

"Yes," she said, bouncing on her heels. "Sorry, you were looking for me?"

"Dumbledore's waiving the rule about the Head Boy and Head Girl going together for tomorrow night, so that I can take you," he said, still studying the room, but thankfully moving away from the books. Hermione scanned the room, trying to work out if there was anything else that shouldn't have been around in this decade. Then it registered what he had said.

"He said that?" she asked. "Really?"

"So do you want to go with me? Obviously, the invitation, as I said before, is still open to you. So what's your answer?"

"I haven't got a dress," she replied.

"Weasley said that you could Transfigure one," he said. "Well? Can you?"

"We're not supposed to use magic… oh! I fixed up Arthur's robes! How could I have been so _stupid_?"

"Dumbledore didn't seem to have a problem with it," Moody admitted, shrugging his shoulders. Hermione groaned.

"Great. And the headmaster knows about it."

"So are you coming or not?" he asked insistently.

Hermione shook her head. She couldn't bring herself to go to the dance with someone she liked who just didn't like her. It was fickle, and she should have jumped at the opportunity; but she couldn't work up the energy. Her reply would only be half-hearted, and she didn't want Moody to think that she was only accepting because of the headmaster. It was bad enough that he had only asked her to the Christmas Ball in the first place out of pity.

"Why not?" he asked sharply. Dumbledore wouldn't be pleased about this.

"I don't want to be reminded of a Christmas without my friends by my side," she said, hugging her legs where she sat on her bed.

"You don't count Arthur and Molly as friends?" he asked. Aren't _I_ your friend, he added silently, but Hermione didn't notice.

"Or a Christmas without my p-parents," she said, whispering. "I'll never see them again, and… and I may never see my friends again, or at least not for years… and I feel so lonely here, lonelier than I've even been in my life. My first ever friends, and they're not here. I'm not with them."

"Oh," he said, feeling uncomfortable. What would Molly do? Or Tabitha, for that matter?

They'd hug her, he thought grudgingly. He had been leaning against her dressing table, and straightened up. Unfolding his arms, he walked slowly over to his distressed friend, sat beside her on the bed, and hesitantly gave her a hug. She tensed, and then relaxed almost immediately. She twisted around, put her own arms around him, and buried her face in the shoulder of his dress robes.

**

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I'm glad I gave this story the second genre of 'Drama'. I did do that… didn't I? It sounds like something I'd do.


	16. Gossip Girls

"Gossip Girls"

"_Oh," he said, feeling uncomfortable. What would Molly do? Or Tabitha, for that matter?_

_They'd hug her, he thought grudgingly. He had been leaning against her dressing table, and straightened up. Unfolding his arms, he walked slowly over to his distressed friend, sat beside her on the bed, and hesitantly gave her a hug. She tensed, and then relaxed almost immediately. She twisted around, put her own arms around him, and buried her face in the shoulder of his dress robes._

Sensing that Moody was uncomfortable with this, Hermione eventually dismissed him, and returned to the Gryffindor Tower. When she arrived, it was fairly quiet in the common room; but Molly was waiting for her. They scampered up to the seventh year dormitories.

"Okay," Hermione said, and they sat down on her bed. "So, what happened?"

"First of all, are you coming tomorrow night?" Molly asked, and Hermione shook her head. By the looks of things, she didn't want to talk about it, so Molly didn't press her on the subject. "All right. So, things were going really well. Alastor and Tabitha, along with the teachers, started the dancing. The rest of us joined in, and the night was going really well. Anyway, Arthur and I went outside for a walk and a talk, tiring of the dancing. We wanted a bit of time alone with each other, since we're usually in the common room."

"Uh-huh," Hermione said, and she glanced down at the crumpled state of Molly's ball gown. "Need me to help press that later?" She smirked at Molly's blush.

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, but she couldn't help grinning. "Now, are you going to let me finish my story?"

"Sorry. Do continue."

"Thank you. Anyway, we decided to have a little kiss—with the moonlight, the music, and the atmosphere…"

"'And while there's moonlight, and music, and love, and romance, let's face the music and dance, dance, dance'," Hermione sang softly, and Molly's eyebrows shot up. "Sorry. It's a Muggle song. I'll try to stop interrupting."

"You'd better. Knowing what the teachers are like if they catch students snogging outside when they're supposed to be indoors, we hid in one of the bushes so that we wouldn't get in trouble. But… well… we were caught. Arthur's got detention."

Hermione remembered hearing this story. It felt quite surreal to be around when it happened, and even more surreal to be hearing it from Molly Weasley herself. "That's no good."

"But… oh, boy, was it worth it!" the girl said dreamily, and she lay back on Hermione's bed. The seventh-year laughed.

"You should rest up so that you'll be awake enough for tomorrow night," she advised, and Molly leapt off the bed with her usual energy, reminding Hermione of Fred and George.

"Okey-dokey!" she sang. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Are you _sure_ you don't want to come to the ball? Professor Dumbledore's made it all right."

"No, it's fine," Hermione said. "You know, if Arthur didn't already have detention, I'd give him a piece of my mind for spilling to the headmaster that I used magic to alter his clothes."

"I'll tell him off for you," Molly offered, grinning. "He'll take it a bit better from me, I think."

"Don't be too hard on him."

"I won't. `Night!"

"Good night, Molly."

**

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**

I've re-posted the previous chapter because I realised that they had been having lessons in the Room of Requirement—their private lessons—so of _**course**_** he would have heard of it. I should probably rewrite and then re-post the chapter before that as well, where he's startled by the door appearing. What do you reckon?**


	17. The Next Evening

"The Next Evening"

"_No, it's fine," Hermione said. "You know, if Arthur didn't already have detention, I'd give him a piece of my mind for spilling to the headmaster that I used magic to alter his clothes."_

"_I'll tell him off for you," Molly offered, grinning. "He'll take it a bit better from me, I think."_

"_Don't be too hard on him."_

"_I won't. `Night!"_

"_Good night, Molly."_

After a slow day, where students who had been at the dance slept in, those who hadn't attended the ball were either prepping for that night, or remained at a loose ends. Hermione had already done all of her work, and was instead reading _Confundus Tempus_ for leisure. She had found it in the library, and was muddling through it with her limited knowledge of Latin. From what she could gather from the title, it was supposedly about the confusing intricacies of time.

"I need a Latin dictionary," she muttered, flipping through yet another page of half-gibberish. "Thank goodness for derivatives."

"You're talking about plants at _this_ time of day?" Darla McKinnon asked, clearly hung-over from spiked punch. She had been at the ball to supervise her younger sister, Marlene. Hermione had never heard of Darla, and wondered if something happened to her during the first war. Of course, she didn't want anything bad to happen to anyone; but she was trying not to interfere with the past any more than she already was simply by being there.

"If you're talking about 'diricrawls', they're animals, not plants," Hermione replied, only half-listening as she frowned at the Latin. Yes, it was the basis for a lot of the English language, but _really_!

"Whatever," Darla said, throwing herself onto the couch. "Seen Marlene?"

"Nope. Sorry."

"Oh well. She'll be around somewhere."

"What a sisterly attitude you have."

"I do my best."

Moody came to the common room at one point, and tried to persuade Hermione to come with him.

"You're one of the few people I can stand in this entire school," he said gruffly. "You'll keep my sane. Who knows? I may even enjoy myself."

"Moody, I've given you my reasons," Hermione said tiredly. "Besides, I have a great evening of 'Nothing' planned. Try and expand your circle of acquaintances. You can't hang around with me forever, you know." Particularly if I'm returning to the future sometime, she added silently as he sighed, and walked away.

By that evening, the younger students were all present and accounted for in each house. Hermione made it perfectly clear that she was in no way their babysitter, and that she was planning to have a relaxing night. If anyone dared to threaten her peace and quiet, they'd be on the receiving end of her wand, and she wouldn't necessarily be using it to cast spells.

Alas, it was not destined to be a peaceful night…

**

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The future chapters will be as action-packed as I can make them. As I'm no good at action, be prepared _**not**_** to be amazed.**


	18. Christmas Battle, Part 1

"Christmas Battle, Part 1"

"_Moody, I've given you my reasons," Hermione said tiredly. "Besides, I have a great evening of 'Nothing' planned. Try and expand your circle of acquaintances. You can't hang around with me forever, you know." Particularly if I'm returning to the future sometime, she added silently as he sighed, and walked away._

_By that evening, the younger students were all present and accounted for in each house. Hermione made it perfectly clear that she was in no way their babysitter, and that she was planning to have a relaxing night. If anyone dared to threaten her peace and quiet, they'd be on the receiving end of her wand, and she wouldn't necessarily be using it to cast spells._

_Alas, it was not destined to be a peaceful night…_

"Hermione? Her-miiii-o-neee! Open u-up!"

She wrenched the door open, as it increasingly became clear that the knocking and calling wouldn't stop anytime soon.

"Yes?" she asked tightly. "What is it? Is Hogwarts being attacked?"

"We're going to get stuff from the kitchens," the second-year said. "Want us to get you something?" Was it Laney? Janey? Who knew? All the second-years were the same: far too confident after having survived 'a _whole year_ at Hogwarts'. Naturally, they were very rarely as eventful as _her_ first year… but then what was?

All her subsequent years, actually. Maybe Hermione wasn't the best job.

She realised that the student was waiting for an answer. "How do _you_ know about the kitchens?"

"Oh, I've got my sources," the twelve-year-old said, examining her nails casually. The older girl rolled her eyes.

"It's very kind of you, but you've been restricted to your houses—or had you forgotten?" she asked.

"N-no," she replied. Liar, Hermione thought.

"Look, just ask one of the house elves to bring you something. They're always eager to help." Hermione, founder of S.P.E.W, couldn't believe that she had just suggested that. But right now she wanted to return to her book.

"They'll all be so busy catering for the ball," the girl whined.

"Fine!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. "I'll go and get something. You lot stay up here. Remember what I said about my wand?"

The second-year gulped, and fled down the stairs. Hermione grabbed her travelling cloak; and, throwing it around her shoulders, made her way down the stairs, hoping that the younger Gryffindors would have some kind of list. If necessary, she'd levitate the food to the tower. Of course, anything with far too much sugar would just be ignored. They'd had enough of it last night.

There was certainly a long list. Hermione said that she'd see what she could do. A nice equivocation on her part; and they fell for it. Smirking as she walked along the corridors, she almost missed the lights coming from the grounds. Striding over to a window, she looked out, and saw that they were coming from the gates.

Intruders, she thought. Shoving the list into the pocket of her jeans, she withdrew her wand and ran down flight after flight of stairs, hoping that she was just over-reacting.

"Please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong," she chanted quietly. She stopped to look out a window on a lower floor, two storeys above ground level. There were definitely figures moving along the lawn; she could see them clearly in the moonlight.

And she doubted very much that they were Santa's elves. It wasn't Christmas yet.

Hermione leapt down the last flight of stairs, and ran across the floor, ignoring the lights and music coming from the Great Hall. The doors were open, flooding the Entrance Hall with a yellow glow. She barely had the breath to pant as she wrenched open the front doors and stared out across the grounds.

Silvery masks; black cloaks. These were Death Eaters. Hermione closed the door and began to ward it. She turned around.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she shouted.

**

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**

Not so much action in this. Next chapter we'll get some more. I promise. Not necessarily great quality—let's be honest; not much of this is—but I'll do my best, particularly as the new uni semester starts tomorrow.


	19. Christmas Battle, Part 2

"Christmas Battle, Part 2"

_Hermione leapt down the last flight of stairs, and ran across the floor, ignoring the lights and music coming from the Great Hall. The doors were open, flooding the Entrance Hall with a yellow glow. She barely had the breath to pant as she wrenched open the front doors and stared out across the grounds._

_Silvery masks; black cloaks. These were Death Eaters. Hermione closed the door and began to ward it. She turned around._

"_Professor Dumbledore!" she shouted._

Moody was the first into the hall, hearing the panic in her voice. Dumbledore was close on his heels. Hermione almost collapsed in relief when she saw the most powerful wizard of their time and the greatest Auror of their time coming to her aid.

"Death Eaters," she said, and they looked at each other.

"We have to keep them from getting to the younger students," the headmaster said, and Moody nodded. "Mr. Moody, please make an announcement. I'll put up some wards until we're prepared to fight. Miss Granger, send everyone under the age of sixteen to the common rooms to put up a defence, just in case. Then return immediately. Go."

While Moody made his announcement, Hermione began to weed out the younger students, and sent them out with instructions to protect the students in the common rooms. She made them promise that they would send someone to inform her if Death Eaters got to them.

Once they were ready, Dumbledore dropped the wards, and the battle commenced.

Hermione soon found herself duelling two Death Eaters at once, reminded of the battle last year. She managed to keep herself from going down, sustaining a few marks from curses that nearly hit her, but otherwise all right. However, she was unable to do anything to them because she was so busy defending herself. She needed somebody to help her.

"Stupefy!" someone yelled, and one of them went down, the taller one. Hermione used this distraction to Stun her other opponent, and turned to thank her rescuer.

"_Molly_!" she hissed, horrified that Ron's mother was there. "You should be in the Gryffindor common room."

"Not while Arthur's fighting Death Eaters," she said fiercely. "Come on! We're needed."

They left the Stunned Death Eaters behind, and joined the others. Hermione noticed that a few younger students had broken away and returned to fight. There weren't any Slytherin students—presumably they had family members behind those masks—but the Death Eaters were still outnumbered.

Unfortunately, most of the female students were finding themselves encumbered by the dresses they wore. She noticed that Molly had torn her own dress down the front and back of the skirt to give herself more room to move. Other girls began doing that as well, desperate to help.

Arthur blanched when he saw Molly joining the battle as well, and fought his way over to the two of them. Hermione used a Bat-Bogey Hex on a Death Eater who was about to curse him, and Arthur shot her a grateful look as he hurried to Molly's side.

Hermione paled when she saw Moody fighting three Death Eaters at once with an amazing speed and skill. But she found herself duelling with another masked killer, and had to take him (or her) down before she could move on.

Some students had fallen, Hermione noticed with sadness. The Death Eaters may have been outnumbered, but they were vastly more experienced and skilled. There would be more deaths by the end of the battle.

**

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More battle action next chapter.


	20. Christmas Battle, Part 3

"Christmas Battle, Part 3"

_Arthur blanched when he saw Molly joining the battle as well, and fought his way over to the two of them. Hermione used a Bat-Bogey Hex on a Death Eater who was about to curse him, and Arthur shot her a grateful look as he hurried to Molly's side._

_Hermione paled when she saw Moody fighting three Death Eaters at once with an amazing speed and skill. But she found herself duelling with another masked killer, and had to take him (or her) down before she could move on. _

_Some students had fallen, Hermione noticed with sadness. The Death Eaters may have been outnumbered, but they were vastly more experienced and skilled. There would be more deaths by the end of the battle._

"Stupefy!" Hermione.

"Incarcerous!" Moody.

"Expelliarmus!" Molly.

"Avada Kedavra!" Death Eater.

"Stupefy!" Arthur.

"Crucio!" Death Eater.

"Stupefy!" Death Eater.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione.

"Stupefy!" Moody.

"Protego!" Molly.

"Incarcerous!" Arthur.

Spells were flying right, left, and centre. Some students were being forced up the staircase, tripping over the steps while they backed up and _just_ missing being hit with several curses.

Hermione kept waiting for Voldemort to turn up and intensify the killing spree.

"Aargh!"

They all turned as they heard the terrible scream. A girl had been thrown over a banister at the top of the stairs by the force of a Disarming spell. There was no time for anyone to save her, and her body smashed onto the floor below. Unfortunately, the battle had to go on, and she wasn't the only casualty.

Hermione kept making her way over to Moody. She glanced over to the body of the unknown girl at one point, and was shocked to see that it was Darla McKinnon. So _that's_ why she had never heard of her until now.

The death spurred her on closer to the head boy, determined to save him. He couldn't die. He just couldn't die. She wouldn't let him.

He had taken down two of the Death Eaters he had been duelling, and was now fighting off three more. In a fight of four-against-one, Hermione decided to even up the odds a bit.

"Thanks," Moody muttered as she hexed one of the Death Eaters and came to stand beside him.

"You're welcome," she replied, and helped him to fight.

Arthur was being backed up the staircase, while Molly was still down below, helping Professor McGonagall duel three Death Eaters. He was in Hermione's line of vision, and she kept her eyes on him, glancing around her every time she threw up a shield. Thankfully, the Death Eaters were so busy defending themselves that they couldn't revive any of their comrades.

Two more masked murderers joined together to fight the deputy-headmistress and Molly. Arthur, seeing the increased danger, kicked the Death Eater he was fighting down the staircase, who then knocked into two others as they fell. He then slid partway down the banister, and jumped to the floor the rest of the way. He hexed one of the Death Eaters from behind.

This distracted Hermione. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, a female Death Eater raised her wand, aiming for Moody.

**

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**

What's going to happen now? Remember, things will have changed now that Hermione's back. For those who guessed that Darla would die (creative-writing-girl-13, for example)… well, she did. So you were right. Well done.


	21. Christmas Battle, Part 4

"Christmas Battle, Part 4"

_Two more masked murderers joined together to fight the deputy-headmistress and Molly. Arthur, seeing the increased danger, kicked the Death Eater he was fighting down the staircase, who then knocked into two others as they fell. He then slid partway down the banister, and jumped to the floor the rest of the way. He hexed one of the Death Eaters from behind._

_This distracted Hermione. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, a female Death Eater raised her wand, aiming for Moody._

"No!" she shouted. "Stupefy!" The woman Death Eater ducked to avoid the spell, and it almost struck Professor Slughorn. Well, Hermione would just have to apologise to him later. He probably didn't even notice, he was so busy duelling.

"Incarcerous!" the woman yelled, and Hermione silently put up a shield, making the ropes rebound. Unfortunately, they only fell to the floor and disappeared; but when the Death Eater skipped aside to avoid the impending ropes, Hermione took the opportunity to take a leaf out of Professor Snape's book, forgetting that the spell hadn't yet been invented.

Levicorpus, she thought, and the woman was soon hanging up in the air by her right ankle, shrieking as her wand fell to the floor. Hermione ran forward, stepped on the end of the wand, and used her left hand to snap it under her foot. She then let go of the spell, and the woman fell on her head. Whether she was just knocked out or dead, Hermione didn't care. She had saved Moody from that particular danger.

Only a few people had noticed what had happened, but soon forgot it in the excitement of battle. Dumbledore was like a demon, fire flashing in his eyes as he tried to save as many of his students as he possibly could. Hermione remained by Moody's side. More and more Death Eaters were falling. The only surprising thing was that Voldemort hadn't yet shown up.

"Is your leader coming, Malfoy?" Dumbledore called to the man he was fighting.

Lucius or Abraxas? Hermione thought. The man sneered; and, let's be honest, all Malfoys sneer just the same, so it could have been either. Maybe there were more Malfoys she didn't know about.

They were purebloods. Of course there had to be more of them.

Everyone heard his answer, as they were all straining to listen. "No, of course not. He has more important business to attend to."

Hermione immediately knew what this meant; the attack at Hogwarts was a ploy to keep Dumbledore, and other members of the Order, busy defending the school while something worse happened. Was the Ministry being attacked?

But, with the number of Death Eaters being brought down by the staff, students, and even ghosts, victory—even only partial victory—was on their side. If Voldemort had been there, things would have been worse.

If the Ministry of Magic was brought down, however, they'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble.

Molly noticed that the enemy had all but given up. She went around tying up the unconscious but loose Death Eaters. Some of the younger students, who really shouldn't have been fighting, joined her in gathering all the bodies together for the Aurors to collect when they finally arrived. Arthur was relieved to see her virtually out of danger. Minutes later, the last Death Eater was taken down by Moody, who then looked around to see the damage done by the fight.

So many young bodies. This was why he wanted to become an Auror. To stop this kind of thing from happening. Voldemort needed to be brought down; and even if Moody had to do it single-handedly—which he wouldn't—he would fight to the death to stop the Dark side from winning.

He looked at Hermione, who had tears in her eyes. Well, there was one person he could count on to help. She looked at him, and she composed herself, trying to stop her lower lip from trembling as she also thought about the devastation caused in the name of 'distraction'.

"Thanks for covering my back," he said, and she blinked in surprise.

"You saw her?" she asked, wondering if perhaps he didn't really _need_ the magical eye. He nodded. "Well… constant vigilance and all that, I guess," she muttered, glancing down as she spoke. Then she gasped in horror as she saw the blood running down onto the floor from under his trouser leg.

"Wha—" he began, and then he felt the trickle. And then the pain. "Oh." He winced, and she shot forward to support him.

"We have to get you to the hospital wing," she hissed, and she helped him climb the stairs, as he steadfastly refused to be levitated on a stretcher.

**

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**

And that's the end of the battle sequence.


	22. In Memoriam

"In Memoriam"

"_Thanks for covering my back," he said, and she blinked in surprise._

"_You saw her?" she asked, wondering if perhaps he didn't really need the magical eye. He nodded. "Well… constant vigilance and all that, I guess," she muttered, glancing down as she spoke. Then she gasped in horror as she saw the blood running down onto the floor from under his trouser leg._

"_Wha—" he began, and then he felt the trickle. And then the pain. "Oh." He winced, and she shot forward to support him._

"_We have to get you to the hospital wing," she hissed, and she helped him climb the stairs, as he steadfastly refused to be levitated on a stretcher._

The head boy wasn't the only one who had been injured, badly or otherwise. In his case, a nasty curse had got his leg. Madame Greyfern and her apprentice, Miss Pomfrey, were able to save it; but they said that he'd have to be careful. In its new condition, it wouldn't take many more curses without having to come off. As it was, he would be walking with a slight limp for a few weeks.

"I'll get a fake leg if need be," Moody said, rolling his eyes at their fussing.

"That will be years away," Hermione said comfortingly, and then widened her eyes at what she had said. Fortunately, Moody just thought it was a joke, and laughed. Everyone was surprised; he so rarely laughed. Miss Pomfrey murmured something about 'shock' to Madame Greyfern; but the medi-witch just shook her head.

"The day Alastor Moody goes into shock over something will be the day that I retire," she said, and she left him alone with Hermione, who was trying to come to terms with the battle that evening. Maybe this would be the reason they never had balls at Hogwarts in her time. It would certainly be something to look up when she got home. She only hoped that she hadn't changed _Hogwarts: a History_ too much by being here.

"How are you feeling?" she asked Moody when they were finally alone at his bed. Arthur had 'shook up the muscles' in his leg, according to Madame Greyfern, when he did that jump off the stairs; so Molly was sitting with him while he recovered from the potion he had had to take.

"Terrible," he admitted. "How many students died?"

"Uh… I'm not sure," she said. "The only one I can be certain of is…"

"McKinnon," he interrupted. "I know. Has the younger McKinnon been told yet?"

"I don't…"

Hysterical crying could be heard from outside, and Marlene was ushered into the hospital wing. Miss Pomfrey immediately administered a Calming Draught.

"That answers that question," Moody muttered. Hermione smiled at him sadly, fighting back any tears. She knew that the wait would probably lead either to shock or to hysteria; but she preferred to wait until she was alone. "When can I go?" he asked Madame Greyfern, who was clucking her tongue, muttering something about needing more of the Calming Draught before the night was over.

"You'll leave when I tell you that you can leave," she said sharply. "I must attend to Professor Slughorn. I can only hope that he will recover quickly."

"Madame Greyfern," Hermione said, jumping to her feet. "I've made Calming Draught before. Just tell me how much you need, and I'll go to Professor Slughorn's lab…"

"I haven't checked you over yet," the medi-witch said, pointing her finger at the chair Hermione had been using. "You'll have to wait, kind as it is for you to offer."

"Why don't you let Ma-miss Pomfrey check me?" she asked, almost calling her 'Madame Pomfrey'. That wouldn't be for a few years yet, either.

"Wait. Here," Madame Greyfern said, and Hermione sat back down with a sigh. She was fine. She knew that. The Calming Draught supply needed to be replenished. She looked so unhappy that Moody took pity on her.

"When I say run, run," he said, and he winked at her. She gasped at the almost flirty gesture, and blushed. Then she realised what he meant, and nodded. He kept his eyes on the medi-witch and her trainee, taking into account how long it would take them with the different patients. "And when you run, do it quietly. Don't let them notice you."

"I won't," she promised, tensing, ready to run when he told her to. Less than a minute later, he spoke.

"Run."

She weaved in and out of the people standing around near the beds. Ducking out into the hallway, she made her way down to the dungeons at a sprint. If she could break into Professor Snape's stores, she could certainly make it into Professor Slughorn's. He was far less paranoid.

On the way there, she had to go through the Entrance Hall, where all the bodies were stacked. The dead Death Eaters were still there, on one side—the Aurors had clearly collected the ones who were alive—and the bodies of the deceased students were on the other side, being mourned by many of the students. There were twelve bodies altogether.

Hermione would grieve later; right now, she needed to do some brewing.

**

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**

This chapter was originally supposed to be the memorial for the students; but when I came up with the cliff-hanger at the end of the last chapter, I figured that I needed to continue with that instead; and this little scene came out. Hope you don't mind!


	23. Brewing and Blame

"Brewing and Blame"

_She weaved in and out of the people standing around near the beds. Ducking out into the hallway, she made her way down to the dungeons at a sprint. If she could break into Professor Snape's stores, she could certainly make it into Professor Slughorn's. He was far less paranoid._

_On the way there, she had to go through the Entrance Hall, where all the bodies were stacked. The dead Death Eaters were still there, on one side—the Aurors had clearly collected the ones who were alive—and the bodies of the deceased students were on the other side, being mourned by many of the students. There were twelve bodies altogether._

_Hermione would grieve later; right now, she needed to do some brewing._

The faces of the bodies ran through Hermione's mind as she continued to race to the dungeons.

_Darla McKinnon… Edgar Darcy… Karina Gamp… Tanya Blishwick… Lawrence Selwyn… Barney Justice… Tracey MacMillan… Florence Vassy… Peter MacDougal… Annie Featherstone… Hannah Diggle… Florian Jones…_

She was able to enter Professor Slughorn's study with a simple Unlocking Charm. The potions stores were in the same place as they were in Professor Snape's time. Hermione checked a potions textbook first, to make sure that she had the instructions right in her mind.

She had.

The wards were a bit difficult to bring down, but she managed, even though it stole a few minutes of her time. She got started as soon as she had the ingredients laid out, unconsciously repeating Professor Snape's instructions out loud.

"Cut the roots at a forty-five degree angle… that's forty-three and a half, Granger, or can't you tell the difference?… thinner than that… scoop it all into the cauldron… lower the temperature, Miss Parkinson, do you want to pull a 'Neville Longbottom' on us?… very well done, Draco, twenty points to Slytherin… crush it, don't cut it… ten points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn, Potter… What the hell am I saying?" she asked, pausing in her potion-making as she realised what she was doing. "Clearly I'm going mental. Keep your mind on the potion, Hermione."

She stopped reciting the instructions, but continued to work diligently. When she was finished, she extinguished the flames underneath the cauldron, and Summoned two dozen potion vials to begin with. She'd only ever had to fill one vial, so wasn't sure how far it would go.

Four and a half dozen phials were eventually filled, and she packed them in a box carefully. Hermione quickly cleared the traces of potion from the cauldron, levitated it over to the sinks so that it could cool off, and returned the unused ingredients and the book to the right places. Once she was done, she flooed directly to the hospital wing, and immediately sought out Miss Pomfrey, who took the potions with a grateful look.

Moody signalled for Hermione to come and sit back down, and she looked around nervously for Madame Greyfern.

"She's not here," he said, and she sighed in relief. "Did you get it done?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "Fifty-four doses of Calming Draught are ready to be taken. More than enough for the time being."

"I hope so," the head boy replied. "Well done, Hermione."

"Has she said if you're ready to go yet?"

"'Give it another half hour', she said," he grumbled. "Bloody fusspot."

"It's for your own good," Hermione told him, patting his arm. He glanced down at it, and she pulled back quickly. "I'm… I'm going to go for a walk about," she said quietly, standing. "I feel perfectly fine."

"You look terrible," he said, and she raised an eyebrow. "You need to rest."

"I will," she insisted. "I just… I need to be by myself."

With that, she left, and Moody watched her walk out. Damn Madame Greyfern. Hermione shouldn't be left on her own. Yes, she had been alone while brewing the potion; but that was something for her to do.

No. He refused to wait. Hew knew precisely where she would be.

The walk to the Room of Requirement was slightly painful, despite the potions that he had taken. He arrived there still wincing, but the walk had done him so good. He felt some colour returning despite the blood loss. He hoped that he didn't look too horrific with the blood stains on his trouser legs.

The door appeared after he passed the wall three times. He heard sobs coming from inside; and, upon opening the door, saw her bedroom from home. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, letting the tears fall.

Moody cleared his throat, and Hermione looked up.

"It's all my fault," she whispered. "I never should have come. Never. Not that I had a choice, but…"

"What's your fault?" he asked, frowning as he walked forward slowly.

"I should have done more, stopped the younger students from fighting. They shouldn't have died… none of them should have died. And yet… I could stop so much… but I can't do it. I just can't. It would be wrong…"

She kept rambling, but Moody just ignored it, and sat beside her. She continued to speak, getting more frantic, her words now incoherent through the sobs. He put an arm around her shoulders, and she looked up at him.

"Hermione," he murmured, and he lowered his lips to hers.

**

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Okay, so they're finally kissing. Does it seem realistic enough, the way I've done it?

**I made up the first names of all the dead students, and some of the last names. Others I got from the Harry Potter wiki, of pureblood families.**


	24. Awkwardness

"Awkwardness"

_Moody cleared his throat, and Hermione looked up._

"_It's all my fault," she whispered. "I never should have come. Never. Not that I had a choice, but…"_

"_What's your fault?" he asked, frowning as he walked forward slowly._

"_I should have done more, stopped the younger students from fighting. They shouldn't have died… none of them should have died. And yet… I could stop so much… but I can't do it. I just can't. It would be wrong…"_

_She kept rambling, but Moody just ignored it, and sat beside her. She continued to speak, getting more frantic, her words now incoherent through the sobs. He put an arm around her shoulders, and she looked up at him._

"_Hermione," he murmured, and he lowered his lips to hers._

At that moment, Hermione felt something akin to electricity run through her. She gasped inaudibly, and ran her hands up around his shoulders, holding him as if she'd die if ever he let go. She found out just how strong he was when his arms moved around her waist and pulled her close, his lips pressing even closer. Then a tingling sensation started in her toes the moment he deepened the kiss.

He felt it, too; and with a sudden movement of his arms, he had hauled her into his lap, dipping her back over as the kiss grew more frantic. When they stopped for a desperately-needed breather, he realised where they were, what it looked like; as though they were about to do something they'd regret in her bedroom at home. Shocked at his behaviour, he moved her onto the bed, and then stood.

"Alastor?" she asked, her lips red from their kisses. "What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry… I shouldn't have…" He tried to speak in coherent sentences, but just couldn't find the words.

"Shouldn't have what?" she asked, standing as well. She walked a few steps towards him, and he limped back.

"You're upset, I took advantage of that…"

"You _know_ I like you," she said, frustrated. "Damn it, Moody. Just tell me what it is you want."

"I don't know…"

"Then I suggest you find out, because one day I may not be here anymore, and you'll have missed your chance," she said, and she stormed from the room. Moody followed her, figuring that she was going to the Gryffindor common room, and wanting to visit their friends… or at least see if they had returned yet.

There was a lot of crying, which made him uncomfortable, and a lot of rejoicing at the fact that the Death Eaters had been defeated and captured. But then the cost of this defeat returned to haunt them, and the tears started again.

"Does anyone know where West is?" he asked, meaning the head girl. Arthur looked up from where he was seated with Molly, having finally been let out of the infirmary.

"The opposite of east," he said, and Moody rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, Weasley," he said, and he looked around for Hermione. She was busy consoling one girl who had lost a brother. What was her name? Frances? Francine? Who cared, quite frankly? He certainly didn't. He just wanted to speak to Hermione.

"What's up, Moody?" Molly asked, and he arched an eyebrow, glancing at Arthur.

"The opposite of down," he said, and several of the students laughed. It was rare that the head boy would make a joke.

"I think Tabitha's with the Hufflepuffs," an older boy said from the corner. Moody nodded his thanks, and then started to walk towards Hermione, determined to get her away somewhere private so that he could explain his actions… assuming, that is, that he could account for them himself. But Hermione tensed as soon as he neared her, so he drew back, and wandered over to the fireplace.

"See you later, everyone," he said gruffly, and he flooed to the Hufflepuff common room to consult with the head girl.

"What's happened?" Molly called to Hermione.

"I'll tell you later," she replied, and she gave Francesca one last squeeze before she let go, and went to comfort someone else. "However, I think this is going to be a long night."

**

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Which chapter is this? 24? Well, I was planning to make the story 35 chapters long, so we'll see how we go. It may even end up being 30, if that gives you some indication of how much further we have to go.


	25. Cover Story

"Cover Story"

"_I think Tabitha's with the Hufflepuffs," an older boy said from the corner. Moody nodded his thanks, and then started to walk towards Hermione, determined to get her away somewhere private so that he could explain his actions… assuming, that is, that he could account for them himself. But Hermione tensed as soon as he neared her, so he drew back, and wandered over to the fireplace._

"_See you later, everyone," he said gruffly, and he flooed to the Hufflepuff common room to consult with the head girl._

"_What's happened?" Molly called to Hermione._

"_I'll tell you later," she replied, and she gave Francesca one last squeeze before she let go, and went to comfort someone else. "However, I think this is going to be a long night."_

Ever since the battle, the other students had grown even further away from the Slytherins, who hadn't stayed around to help fight the Death Eaters. Students' lives could have been saved had they assisted, and this soured everyone even more towards the enemy house.

Those who had lost family members were allowed to return to their homes on the Hogwarts express before the holidays, but some of them preferred to stay until everyone else departed, wanting to be with their friends for a bit longer.

They were all sitting around the common room one evening, Moody with them, constantly watching Hermione as though he were trying to solve a puzzle. She had told Molly about their kiss, as promised, and now the younger girl was looking between them, although it seemed that Hermione hadn't noticed Moody's unwavering gaze.

"I hope I won't have to leave Hogwarts early," Hermione was saying.

"Why would you leave early? You haven't lost any family," Arthur said.

"My aunt Hermione's not well at the moment—she lives in Wales—and she may need my help at a moment's notice. Every day I expect to receive an owl from her."

"You were named after your aunt?" Molly asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, and she shrugged. "Don't you do it in the wizarding world?"

"Yes," several students chorused, and she laughed.

"My mother and her favourite cousin had made a pact," she explained. "Their first daughters would be named after each other. I've made the same pact with _my_ favourite cousin, Jean. My first daughter—should I have one—will therefore have to be named Jean. By the same token, her first daughter will be named Hermione. The only secret I keep from her is that I'm a witch," she added, shaking her head with a smile. "Merlin forbid any of her children turn out not to be Muggles. Then I'll have to tell her about my own status as a witch, and she may never speak to me again."

"We've already started planning our children's names," Molly said, cuddling Arthur. "We plan to have four."

"All boys," Arthur added.

"Ha ha," his girlfriend said. Hermione giggled, knowing full well what would happen.

"So you plan to get married one day?" Moody asked her, and she looked up at him, the smile disappearing.

"If I can become an Auror or a Healer, and not have to be a baby-machine, then I'm willing to get married," she said carefully, unable to see herself doing otherwise.

"Will you come to our wedding?" Molly asked her, and Hermione looked up at her from her place on the floor.

"I may not even be around then," she said honestly. "However, if I _am_ around… then I'd be honoured."

"On that note, would you be my maid-of-honour?"

"And on _that_ note, I'm going to bed," Hermione said, standing more gracefully than usual. She escaped from the room before she could say or do something she may regret. She had set up things for her to appear as her own niece. There was nothing more that she could do… for now.

**

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Five or ten chapters left. I shouldn't think any more than that. I hope you've enjoyed this story so far; and, if ever I get around to writing another romance story with these two as the couple, I hope to see you there.


	26. Hard Decisions

"Hard Decisions"

"_Will you come to our wedding?" Molly asked her, and Hermione looked up at her from her place on the floor._

"_I may not even be around then," she said honestly. "However, if I am around… then I'd be honoured."_

"_On that note, would you be my maid-of-honour?"_

"_And on that note, I'm going to bed," Hermione said, standing more gracefully than usual. She escaped from the room before she could say or do something she may regret. She had set up things for her to appear as her own niece. There was nothing more that she could do… for now._

Why did Molly have to ask her to go to their wedding? She would have loved to, but knew that she couldn't. The longer she stayed in this time, the more potential damage she was doing to the future of the wizarding world. What she had been thinking all this time she didn't know. Christmas was rushing closer, holidays were starting in a few days' time, and she couldn't stay here. If she just disappeared, then she would be assumed dead, and there wouldn't even be any need for the 'niece' story, would there?

No. Of course not.

Then there was that strange object. She thought of it sometimes; but every time she went to get it out of her bag, someone would come along, and she'd forget about it. That was particularly the case when Moody around; but she had a habit of forgetting everything around her when he was near.

Ridiculous, she told herself. How could you have fallen this hard for him? You don't even like him that much in your time.

But I never got to know him that well in the nineties, another voice in her head whispered, and she nodded. That much was certainly true.

"Oh, Alastor," she said, and she sighed as she leaned back in the arched window where she was sitting in a darkening corridor. Evening was setting in for real.

"What?" someone said, and she shrieked, nearly falling out the window. Moody leapt from the shadows in time, and grabbed her right arm. He pulled her to the safety of his arms, saving her from what would have been a fatal fall. "You were sitting in a fifth floor window?" he asked incredulously, a tinge of annoyance and worry in his voice.

"If you hadn't startled me, I wouldn't have started to fall," she retorted, trying to detangle herself from his arms. He wouldn't let go.

"You've been avoiding me," he said, and she finally succeeded pulling herself from his grasp. She grabbed her bag off the floor, and swung around to look him in the eyes.

"With good reason," she replied. "I don't like to have my heart played with. I had enough of that last year."

"Hermione…"

"Leave me alone, Moody," she said, walking away from him. She barely heard his words over the sound of her footsteps.

"It was 'Alastor' before."

**

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Short chapter, with reason. The next chapter will also be reasonably short, but it's supposed to increase dramatic tension. Or something like that. *Grins stupidly*


	27. Almost Leaving

"Almost Leaving"

"_If you hadn't startled me, I wouldn't have started to fall," she retorted, trying to detangle herself from his arms. He wouldn't let go._

"_You've been avoiding me," he said, and she finally succeeded pulling herself from his grasp. She grabbed her bag off the floor, and swung around to look him in the eyes._

"_With good reason," she replied. "I don't like to have my heart played with. I had enough of that last year."_

"_Hermione…"_

"_Leave me alone, Moody," she said, walking away from him. She barely heard his words over the sound of her footsteps._

"_It was 'Alastor' before."_

Hermione just wanted to get out of Hogwarts. She hurried down a flight of stairs, and then the object from her first night just popped into her mind. She had yet to examine it properly, and decided that now was as good a time as any. Ducking into a dark alcove, she opened her bag and pulled it out. There were four places for lights, as she had noticed when she had found it in the Room of Requirement. She knew that they had to be for lights, because three of them were lit. It felt a little warm in her hands, but nowhere near hot.

Hogwarts was a creepy place at night. Little noises were mysteriously amplified, and the ghostly silence around them made it all the more terrifying. Torches lining the walls were dimmer, as students were supposed to be in bed; they cast wavering shadows, which did nothing to help Hermione's nerves. Yes, she had been avoiding Moody. There had never been any hint in the future that he had had a romantic relationship with anyone, nor did he seem the type.

"In the future," she reminded herself forcefully, the whisper seeming to be so much louder than it really was. Anyone could have heard it, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, holding the object tighter than she meant. A crackle of something zipped through her hand. It felt so strange, and she quickly thrust it back into her bag when she heard someone coming.

"Hermione?"

"Damn it," she muttered. It was Moody. Why couldn't he leave her alone? Was it too much to ask for a bit of peace? There was a _reason_ that she was avoiding him.

"Tell me why," he said, and she wondered if she had spoken aloud. "Come on, you've barely said three straight words to me since the night of the battle. _Civil_ words, to be more precise. I know you. You'd argue the point if I wasn't specific enough." Hermione snorted. "Don't be like that. Explain."

He crossed his arms, and Hermione realised just then how close he was. In fact, he was blocking her only exit from the alcove. "Um…"

"Spill, Granger."

"Look, you _know_ I like you!" she cried, frustrated. "What more do you want? As I told you, I don't want my heart to be messed around. It's worse than my mind being messed around, because at least I can control that, fix it. This… this is uncontrollable. You kissed me, and then pulled away."

"I had my reasons," he said. "For one thing, we were in your room—well, it looked like your room—and we were on your bed. For another thing, you were upset, and I would have been taking advantage of you."

"You wouldn't have, surely you know that…"

"No matter what you say, I would have!" he insisted. "I've heard enough from students coming to me as prefect, as Head Boy, even just as a fellow student. Of course, _those_ ones were turned away quick smart. But I know plenty."

"Regardless," Hermione said, "you don't feel that way about me. Admit it."

"Don't feel _what_ way?" Moody asked, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. She glowered at him.

"You don't love me back," she told him. His eyes widened in surprise, as did hers. "Oh, Merlin. I can't believe I said that."

"Did you mean it?"

"…Oh no. I did."

"And I don't suppose," he said, stepping closer still, "that the kiss might have meant something more than just a kiss? That I could have been returning some of your feelings? That, with your help, I could return them all?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open, and she gaped like a fish until he closed the distance between them, his hands attaching themselves to her hips. He pulled her up against him, and closed her mouth most effectively with his lips… for the time being, anyway.

**

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You won't get any smut—only suggestions. But that's in the next chapter… and the last one. Possibly. As in possibly the last one. But I'll shut up before I give away any more of the plot. See you tomorrow!


	28. Planning

"Planning"

"_You don't love me back," she told him. His eyes widened in surprise, as did hers. "Oh, Merlin. I can't believe I said that."_

"_Did you mean it?"_

"…_Oh no. I did."_

"_And I don't suppose," he said, stepping closer still, "that the kiss might have meant something more than just a kiss? That I could have been returning some of your feelings? That, with your help, I could return them all?"_

_Hermione's mouth dropped open, and she gaped like a fish until he closed the distance between them, his hands attaching themselves to her hips. He pulled her up against him, and closed her mouth most effectively with his lips… for the time being, anyway._

Their second kiss was just the beginning. Hermione threw her arms up around his shoulders as his hands tightened on her waist, his tongue forcing her lips apart again. She moaned as they began to duel, pressing herself as close to him as possible. When he pulled back, it was just to whisper one thing: "My rooms. Now."

It took quite a bit longer than ordinary to reach the head boy's rooms, as they kept ducking into shadows to kiss some more. Moody mumbled the password to the portrait of Harold the Honorific, and pulled her inside.

"I'll… be back," he said between kisses.

"Where are you going?" she asked, a moan in her voice. Moody chuckled.

"I wouldn't have you see my bedroom with all of the notes and clothes strewn all over the place," he said, stroking her cheek. "Allow me a few minutes to clean up to my—and hopefully your—satisfaction. Make yourself comfortable." He began to walk to his room, when she spoke.

"We're to go to your bedroom?" she asked coyly.

He approached her slowly, and placed his hands on her waist. He slid them up to beside her breasts, and she gasped. "I would have thought that you'd prefer to finish what we started in the Room of Requirement?"

"Oh, you mean the private lessons?" she said, wide-eyed with false innocence. He growled.

"I'll show _you_ 'private' lessons," he murmured, and she shivered. He pressed his lips very gently to hers, before going to his bedroom to tidy up. Hermione sank onto the couch in his common room. How much this would complicate things. She had to leave this time eventually, and she rather thought that the strange object would take her back. In fact, when it had shocked her before, she thought that she had been returning to the nineties.

What excuse could she give for leaving? She couldn't just leave Moody like this, not now that he appeared to be caring for her. It seemed that 'Aunt Hermione' would have to come to the rescue. Yes. Hermione would have to send herself an owl from her fake aunt. It would give her an excuse to go. If she stayed much longer, goodness knows how much damage she might do.

"Hermione?"

She turned around, and looked at Moody standing in the doorway of his room. He was giving her a half-smile, but his eyes were dark, darker than she had ever seen a pair of eyes. He was leaning against the doorframe, and she stood shakily, placing a hand on the edge of the couch to stop herself from collapsing with nerves. What on earth did she think she was doing? Moody raised a beckoning finger, and she walked over to him. When only a few feet from him, she stumbled, and he caught her. He scooped her up into his arms, and kicked the door closed behind them.

"Here," he said quietly, and he laid her gently on his bed. He had already pulled back the covers, and Hermione was treated to soft, Gryffindor-red sheets. He pointed his wand at her, and whispered a contraceptive spell, not wanting to make her any more nervous than she already was.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice equally quiet. He climbed onto the bed beside her, and dimmed the lights.

**

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Yes. That's all you're getting. Enough implications? I hope so.


	29. Writing a Letter

"Writing a Letter"

"_Hermione?"_

_She turned around, and looked at Moody standing in the doorway of his room. He was giving her a half-smile, but his eyes were dark, darker than she had ever seen a pair of eyes. He was leaning against the doorframe, and she stood shakily, placing a hand on the edge of the couch to stop herself from collapsing with nerves. What on earth did she think she was doing? Moody raised a beckoning finger, and she walked over to him. When only a few feet from him, she stumbled, and he caught her. He scooped her up into his arms, and kicked the door closed behind them._

"_Here," he said quietly, and he laid her gently on his bed. He had already pulled back the covers, and Hermione was treated to soft, Gryffindor-red sheets. He pointed his wand at her, and whispered a contraceptive spell, not wanting to make her any more nervous than she already was._

"_Thank you," she replied, her voice equally quiet. He climbed onto the bed beside her, and dimmed the lights._

Hermione didn't want Moody to die. She didn't want anyone to die. But Albus Dumbledore had once warned her—as had Professor McGonagall—that messing with time was dangerous, and that it was a great responsibility to be travelling just a few hours for the sake of her studies. She hated to think what _they'd_ think of her, if they knew about this. To tell the truth, though, she was more concerned about what everyone might think if they knew what she and Moody had done the night before… three times.

She sighed in contentment. Never did she think that something that hurt so much could make her so happy.

An arm snaked over her bare stomach as Moody rolled over. She turned her head, and saw that he was still asleep. He was smiling, and looked almost angelic. She rolled into his sleeping embrace, and pressed her lips to his chest. Dawn was breaking—she could see it coming in through the window—and wondered if she had been missed.

"Hermione," he murmured, waking up. When his eyes snapped open, he was surprised to see her lying there, in his arms.

"Morning," Hermione murmured back, and she touched noses with him. "How are you?"

"Better than I've ever felt before," he said slowly, drawing back to arm's length. His eyes travelled down her body, and then back up. He wasn't smiling anymore; just looked concerned. "But the important thing is… how do _you_ feel?" He ran a hand down her side, but this time it wasn't in the throes of passion. She shivered as his hand reached her thigh, and he stroked her. "After all, it was your first…"

"I'm… better than I've ever felt before," she said, and she blinked back the happy tears that threatened to spill. He laughed, and pulled her close again.

"Good," he whispered, and kissed her passionately. He ended up rolling Hermione onto her back, not even breaking their kiss.

"Alastor," she said quietly, pulling away from him. "I have to get back to the common room. They'll probably already know that I wasn't there, and assume the worst."

"Which would be…?" he asked, grinning.

"Anywhere else but here," she replied, lowering her eyes and blushing. He jumped from the bed, and swept her into his arms. "Put me down!" she exclaimed, laughing.

"Never," Moody said, but he soon complied. There wasn't much he could do with her while holding her bridal-style. He wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Stay here with me, Hermione. Don't leave."

She stiffened. If only he knew the double meaning to his words.

"I can't," she whispered hoarsely. "I _have_ to go."

"Well, I'll see you at breakfast, then," he said, relinquishing his grasp on her. She paused, and then turned around. With one last kiss, she waved her wand, magicking her clothes on. He did the same, and began to tidy his room while she left his quarters.

When she arrived back at the Gryffindor tower, she sat down on her bed, glad to see that all the other girls were sleeping in. It was now Sunday, which meant no classes. While she _could_ have stayed with Moody, she knew that she shouldn't get too attached to him.

Bit late for that, she thought bitterly, and set about writing.

_My dearest Alastor,_

_I know it's been a long time, but I need to tell you something important…_

**

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You'll get the whole letter in (currently) chapter 33.

**As of Monday, I'll be posting one chapter of each story a week; so, a chapter of one story is posted on Monday, and then the next chapter posted the next Monday. That way, I'll not only have more time for uni work, but you won't be bombarded by seven emails a day from me and you may get better quality work, though I make no guarantees.**


	30. Aunt Hermione & Madame Pince

"Aunt Hermione and Madame Pince"

_When she arrived back at the Gryffindor tower, she sat down on her bed, glad to see that all the other girls were sleeping in. It was now Sunday, which meant no classes. While she could have stayed with Moody, she knew that she shouldn't get too attached to him._

_Bit late for that, she thought bitterly, and set about writing._

_My dearest Alastor,_

_I know it's been a long time, but I need to tell you something important…_

Sunday afternoon found the students talking while lounging around in the common room. Moody had joined them, and he and Hermione were sitting together on the floor. She was sitting between his legs, leaning back into his embrace. What a transformation she had seen in him. When she considered the little she knew about him from the future, what she had seen was quite different from what she was experiencing now.

Arthur and Molly were grinning at them, snuggling with each other nearby. Little did they know that Hermione was soon to disrupt the peace… or, to be more accurate, 'Aunt Hermione' was. And, knowing what she knew of the future, Hermione knew that the peace would never return.

As if on cue with Hermione's thoughts, an owl flew into the room. It wasn't a school owl; Hermione had sent her fake letter to a wizarding post office, who had sent the letter at the appointed time using one of their own owls. It fluttered over to Hermione, who frowned, and not just as part of the act. How could she do this?

I can't affect the future, she thought unhappily. She pulled off the message, and the owl flew out again without waiting for a treat. She glanced at the front, saw her name in the unfamiliar scrawl she had used, and ripped open the envelope violently.

"What'd the envelope ever do to you?" Moody asked, sounding amused.

"Didn't I tell you that I was anticipating a letter from Aunt Hermione?" she asked, her voice tight, and everyone fell quiet. While Hermione had told them that she would have to leave Hogwarts, and probably never return for the rest of the year, they had no idea that they'd never see her again—not until the nineties.

Moody's arms tightened around his girlfriend's waist. "Whatever it says," he whispered, "we'll deal with it."

Hermione nodded, trying to prevent the tears from falling. She read aloud the letter from 'Aunt Hermione'; from the greetings, to the entreaty for Hermione to come and help her; and finally the regretful news that she probably wouldn't be able to return that year. She broke down, dropping the letter in her genuine distress. She wrenched herself from Moody's shocked arms, and ran up to the girl's dormitories.

"I'll get her," Molly said, her usual cheerfulness dampened to the point of non-existence. She stood shakily, and followed her friend. She found Hermione packing, trembling with suppressed sobs, throwing things into her small bag.

"I can't leave, but I have to," Hermione whispered, and Molly pulled her into an embrace from behind.

"You'll always be the sister I've never had," the younger girl whispered back. "So I'll just wait patiently… we _all_ will. Alastor loves you. He'll wait, too."

"I can't stay," Hermione gasped. She threw the last item into her bag, pulled on her travelling cloak, and gave Molly a last hug.

When she reached the common room, Moody was nowhere to be seen. Hermione wanted to see the library one last time before she left, to appear… goodness knows where. She only hoped that the mysterious object would take her to the right place… the right time.

"Madame Pince?" she asked the librarian as she entered. She hadn't visited the library as much as she should have, and certainly hadn't got much of a chance to make friends with the woman who would later turn sour.

"Yes?" Madame Pince snapped. Hermione saw it. This was the librarian she knew. What the hell had happened to her?

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked. "What happened to you? When we met, you were so…"

"The night of the Death Eater attack?" the librarian said sharply, and Hermione nodded. "I never should have stayed to protect the books, but it's one thing I can do. Two of them, they… they…"

"They what?" Then it dawned on her. "They _attacked_ you? They… did they force you to…"

"Yes," Madame Pince replied. She didn't cry. "Now, if you don't mind, I have some shelving to do."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly. "I had no idea. If I'd known that you were alone here…"

"Not exactly alone."

"I would have helped you fight them," the girl finished. "I'm so, _so_ sorry."

"At least I now know not to trust anyone," Madame Pince said, and she turned her back on Hermione. She never noticed the Gryffindor leave the library.

**

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In case I didn't make it clear enough, the implication is that Madame Pince was raped by two Death Eaters during the battle. To any Pince fans out there, I'm sorry about that; but I needed a legitimate reason for her to turn into the person we meet in the books.

**If there's anything that hasn't been covered fully yet in the story—and we'll get more about Madame Pince's experience later on, though nothing explicit, bearing in mind the rating—let me know. I'll be touching on things in later chapters. Not that there are many left. I may even extend the story to 40 chapters.**


	31. Marry Me

"Marry Me"

"_I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly. "I had no idea. If I'd known that you were alone here…"_

"_Not exactly alone."_

"_I would have helped you fight them," the girl finished. "I'm so, so sorry."_

"_At least I now know not to trust anyone," Madame Pince said, and she turned her back on Hermione. She never noticed the Gryffindor leave the library._

Hermione knew that it would be chancy to use the Room of Requirement for her travel through time. She decided that the grounds would be the best place. Or perhaps not at Hogwarts at all. In fact, judging by the date, Harry and Ron should have been on the horcrux hunt by now, so they wouldn't be at Hogwarts. She'd go to… yes, she'd go to Privet Drive. That just seemed… right. And nobody would be there. _And _she knew where it was.

She began the trek down the slope from the school, her heart thudding like a hammer in her chest. She was leaving everything—and everyone—behind. Sure, she'd see those dearest to her in the future, but… but they wouldn't know who she was. They could _never_ know who she was. It would ruin everything.

They'd never trust her again.

"Hermione!"

She was so far away from the school that the voice calling to her was faint; so faint that she could have easily imagined it. But her heart knew that it was Moody coming after her.

Hermione stopped, and turned. Within moments, her boyfriend was in front of her, panting wildly.

"Don't go," he croaked, his emotions catching up with his breathing. "Hermione, don't leave me…"

"Alastor, don't make this any h…"

"I _know_ that something's wrong, I _know_ you're not coming back," he said. "You wouldn't be so upset, you wouldn't have such an air of… _finality_ around you. Not if you thought that you'd ever see any of us again."

"Of c-course I'll see you again," she whispered, and she held both of his hands. "I promise that we'll see each other again someday. If I thought we'd never see each other again I'd… I'd… I'd stay," she finished, her voice trailing off. In her time, he was dead, and she'd never see him again with her memories of their moments together, every touch, every kiss, every caress…

"Something bad's going to happen, I just know it," Moody said, and he pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. "You know it as well as I do. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"I have to g…"

"Marry me," he blurted out, and she looked at him in shock.

"W-what?"

"If you stay here, we can marry," he said, barrelling on. "We never have to part this way. Please marry me."

"Alastor…"

"Here," he said, glancing around. Finally, inspiration struck. Rummaging around in his pocket, he pulled out a piece of parchment. He waved his wand over it, muttering something, and transfigured it into a ring. "Think about it, and wear this." He slid it onto her finger. "If nothing else, you'll always remember me this way."

"I could never forget you," she replied, her voice husky as she held back tears. "I'll always love you. Remember that. Someone out there will always love you. But… I really must go now." She ended on a whisper and a kiss. Then, with a twirl on her heel, she ran down to the gates of Hogwarts, never looking back, for fear that she'd never leave. She apparated from Hogsmeade to Privet Drive, hid behind some bushes, and pulled out the object. The Ministry's post office had the letters and instructions. She was allowed a _little_ change of the future… wasn't she?

With a deep breath, Hermione held the object in her hands. The second light didn't shine as brightly as the others, she noticed, but she barely had time to think as she was pulled forward to the future.

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Now, is this setting up what'll happen too much? Meh. Next chapter, we'll see people's reactions to seeing Hermione's 'niece' for the 'first time'. Paragraphs of differing lengths; obviously Molly's and Alastor's reactions will be the longest, and take up most of the chapter, I shouldn't wonder. There we are. Enough said for the time being. See you next week!


	32. Memories

"Memories"

"_Here," he said, glancing around. Finally, inspiration struck. Rummaging around in his pocket, he pulled out a piece of parchment. He waved his wand over it, muttering something, and transfigured it into a ring. "Think about it, and wear this." He slid it onto her finger. "If nothing else, you'll always remember me this way."_

"_I could never forget you," she replied, her voice husky as she held back tears. "I'll always love you. Remember that. Someone out there will always love you. But… I really must go now." She ended on a whisper and a kiss. Then, with a twirl on her heel, she ran down to the gates of Hogwarts, never looking back, for fear that she'd never leave. She apparated from Hogsmeade to Privet Drive, hid behind some bushes, and pulled out the object. The Ministry's post office had the letters and instructions. She was allowed a little change of the future… wasn't she?_

_With a deep breath, Hermione held the object in her hands. The second light didn't shine as brightly as the others, she noticed, but she barely had time to think as she was pulled forward to the future._

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was where the teachers saw Hermione Granger for the first time. September first, 1991. There was more excitement over the arrival of Harry Potter, so Hermione went unnoticed for the most part, at least until classes started. It was astounding just how much this Hermione Granger looked like her aunt. The day after the _original_ Hermione Granger left to live with her aunt in Wales, the head boy had informed the headmaster of her departure. The story of Aunt Hermione had come out, and all the staff had been informed. Those who had known Hermione all had high hopes that they'd see her aunt again one day.

Diagon Alley, 1992. Arthur and Molly Weasley had heard how Hermione took after her aunt so much, but even they were surprised at the close resemblance. Because their Hermione had feared that she'd be cut off from the family for not revealing her status as a witch, they assumed that that was what had happened. Hence the fact that young Hermione never mentioned that they knew her aunt.

Molly had found it difficult when her best female friend had left Hogwarts, never to be seen again by any of them… well, except for Moody, and that was only briefly. In fact, he thought it had been a dream, and lived up to his name for weeks on end after that. Arthur always cherished the dress robes Hermione had fixed for him, and they all regretted not having had any pictures taken of the four of them, or even just of their friend. Still, they had pictures of Ron's best friends, so they would do. She wondered if Miss Granger would look just like _their_ Hermione when she reached her seventh year.

A whole year in which he could have watched her, if only he hadn't been caught off guard by Crouch. Moody might have learnt something about Hermione Granger's aunt, no matter how reluctant the others were to talk to her niece about their friend. He desperately wanted some news of her. Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. 1995. That was where he saw the niece of his former girlfriend, the only person he had ever loved. He wondered if she still wore the ring he had given her. Not a night went by when he didn't dream about her; whether it was of a happy future, or memories of their past, or fantasies brought on by their night together. He thought about their kisses and their words of love most of all. Did Hermione Granger even remember him?

As much as he hated to lie to his friends, he knew that that day when he saw Hermione again… it had been real. He had blurted out to the Gryffindors that he had seen her before he could stop himself, and then realised that they would be annoyed that she hadn't visited them, too. So he had told them that he'd had such a real dream that he thought maybe she was communicating with them. Fortunately, they put it down to some kind of delusion on his part, perhaps some madness, to which he just rolled his eyes and stormed from the room.

He had always liked the Room of Requirement.

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Okay, so people have seen Hermione now, and you've got a tantalising hint of something coming up in chapter 36. Only got eight more chapters after this, and we're done! But fear not, fair readers; I've got other Hermoody stories plotted at the moment, and shall start writing them when I can. First, however, I must finished a couple of these stories that I've got going, mustn't I? I really don't have the time, otherwise.


	33. A Note from the Past

"A Note from the Past"

_As much as he hated to lie to his friends, he knew that that day when he saw Hermione again… it had been real. He had blurted out to the Gryffindors that he had seen her before he could stop himself, and then realised that they would be annoyed that she hadn't visited them, too. So he had told them that he'd had such a real dream that he thought maybe she was communicating with them. Fortunately, they put it down to some kind of delusion on his part, perhaps some madness, to which he just rolled his eyes and stormed from the room._

_He had always liked the Room of Requirement._

The Ministry of Magic actually managed to get its act together. On the twenty-third of July, 1997, Alastor Moody received a letter from his old girlfriend, Hermione Granger. He knew that handwriting anywhere, from all their private lessons. He could hardly believe it. The parchment looked excellent, considering that it had been brought through such bad weather by the post owl. He could already see the contents because of his magical eye, but wanted to read it properly, with both eyes.

As he ripped open the envelope, he wondered what Hermione would think if she saw him nowadays. He was a far cry from when she had seen him last. It was only a matter of months after that before his leg was hexed again. By now, of course, it was gone, having taken too many curses over the years. His nose was no longer whole, and he was missing an eye. But his Hermione had never been materialistic, and had certainly loved him despite his paranoia.

The note was out now, and he devoured its contents with his eyes.

_My dearest Alastor,_

_I know it's been a long time, but I need to tell you something important. I know what is being planned for a week from today. Although I cannot say how, I know about the rescue that will be made of Harry Potter. I know how much my niece looks like me, and I hope that this does not pain you. Things went much as we predicted, didn't they?_

_For old time's sake, I want you—need you—to do something for me. I am aware of Hermione's friendship with Mr. Potter, and have guessed that she will be accompanying the Order on this mission. Again, I cannot say how I know all these things. Suffice to say, I just know them. All will be revealed when we meet again, I just know it. But please, promise me that you'll allow her to go with you. She'll be safe with you; as much as I trust you with my life, so do I trust you with hers._

_Alastor, I promise that we'll be together one day. Just… take Hermione with you. And remember: I will always love you, my darling. Always, as you are._

_Every bit of my love,_

_Your Hermione._

His heart leapt. Were they going to meet again? Did she know something that he didn't? Well, only a week left until the rescue. Perhaps Miss Granger would have more news from her aunt. Perhaps _she_ was the one who told her. Just because she never mentioned his Hermione, didn't mean that they weren't in contact.

"Oh, Hermione," he murmured, and he stored the letter in the breast pocket of his robes.

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Getting closer… getting closer…

**This chapter was by special request, and you're lucky I was able to fit in the writing time. In less than half an hour, we have to leave, as Mum's got to drop me at uni. Two hour tutorial, 5-7pm. Fun.**

**So, a big thanks to creative-writing-girl13. It's not exactly what you wanted for this post, but it was the next dot point on the plot list. They'll meet in the next chapter, when she comes back to the future.**


	34. A Girl Remembered

"A Girl Remembered"

_Alastor, I promise that we'll be together one day. Just… take Hermione with you. And remember: I will always love you, my darling. Always, as you are._

_Every bit of my love,_

_Your Hermione._

_His heart leapt. Were they going to meet again? Did she know something that he didn't? Well, only a week left until the rescue. Perhaps Miss Granger would have more news from her aunt. Perhaps she was the one who told her. Just because she never mentioned his Hermione, didn't mean that they weren't in contact._

"_Oh, Hermione," he murmured, and he stored the letter in the breast pocket of his robes._

Hermione could hear voices from where she was, behind the bushes at Number Four, Privet Drive; voices that she recognised. What was the Order doing back here? She hoped that they might have information, and walked around to the front of the house. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there, and Hermione beamed. How wonderful that they should be the first people she would see on her return to the future!

Present, she told herself sternly. You were in the past. This time is no longer the future.

"Hermione, dear!" Mrs. Weasley called, seeing her. "You've arrived in good time. Come now. Are you ready?"

"Y-yes," she said, going with the flow. More and more Order members were turning up, and the scene felt familiar. Nobody seemed to have missed her, for all that she had been gone for months on end. But then, she had nearly gone home that one time… and the light on the strange object had been dimmer…

Had she only gone forward _part_ of the way? Where would she be now, then? What day was it?

"Got the Polyjuice Potion," a familiar, gruff voice said from behind Hermione. She whipped around with a start, and had to stop herself from gaping at Mad-Eye Moody. Yes; this had happened the night that they rescued Harry… the night that Moody died.

She had never noticed that soft look in his eyes when he spoke with her. Well, soft when compared with the looks that he gave other people.

"Let's get inside, then," Mr. Weasley said.

Before Hermione went to see Harry, she felt someone tapping her on the elbow. It was Moody, and he was jerking his head towards the Dursleys' living room. She nodded, and followed him inside; whereupon he turned around.

"I got a letter from a woman who you probably don't know," he said, and he pulled out the letter that she had written, and placed a Stasis Charm on. She didn't want anything to harm it, and particularly didn't want it to age, as that would just be a dead giveaway. It was good to see that he had received it in time, and that the spell was intact after all this time. He replaced it in his breast pocket, and continued to look at her. "You have an aunt who shares your name, Miss Granger. She has promised that we'll meet again, so you may meet her yet." He gave her a slight smile, and she smiled back encouragingly. "Somehow she has found… Merlin, you look so much like her… found out what will transpire tonight, but no one knows _how_ she came across this information. Did you tell her?"

"No," Hermione answered honestly.

"She has asked particularly that you ride with me. Would you like to see her letter?" He began to withdraw the note.

"No, no!" Hermione exclaimed, shaking her hands at him, and he pushed the letter back into his pocket. "It's all right. I believe y…"

"What's that?" he asked, his voice strange as he looked at her left hand. Hermione lowered her hands, and gasped when she saw the ring that he had given her. It had only been minutes ago to her. She looked up at him guiltily. He grabbed her hand, and examined the ring.

"Um…" she began, but she didn't know how to proceed. Their eyes met, and she saw hurt in his non-magical one. Though, to her, his eyes would always be magical.

"H… Hermione?" he whispered.

"I'm… yes. I'm the Hermione you know. Knew. _Know_. I…" She pulled out the strange object, and showed it to him, before putting it back in the bag that he now recognised. "I accidentally travelled back in time."

"I see," he said, dropping her hand and straightening up.

"But I told you that I'd always love you, no matter what," she said. "And I meant it. I _mean_ it."

"So you wrote…"

"The letter, yes. The Ministry kept it for me. Please let me travel with you."

"I can't…"

"Yes, you can, Alastor!" she hissed, and she tried to hold his hand. But he pulled it away.

"You're travelling with Kingsley," he said, his voice hard. "I trust he will provide enough protection to satisfy your 'aunt'?" With that, he stalked out of the room, and Hermione followed, her heart heavy. He hadn't even given her a chance to explain.

After they took the Polyjuice Potion, Hermione was sent to Kingsley's side. Before they all split up, she shot one last, desperate look at Moody. She showed him what happened this very night in her mind, hoping that he knew Legillimancy by now.

Please let him know it, she thought, mounting the Thestral. Please, let him live this time.

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Next chapter will decide their fate. See you then!

**(Okay, so it's not a matter of the chapter itself deciding their fate. I've already decided their fates. Just don't hate me for it.)**


	35. Pain

"Pain"

"_You're travelling with Kingsley," he said, his voice hard. "I trust he will provide enough protection to satisfy your 'aunt'?" With that, he stalked out of the room, and Hermione followed, her heart heavy. He hadn't even given her a chance to explain._

_After they took the Polyjuice Potion, Hermione was sent to Kingsley's side. Before they all split up, she shot one last, desperate look at Moody. She showed him what happened this very night in her mind, hoping that he knew Legillimancy by now._

_Please let him know it, she thought, mounting the Thestral. Please, let him live this time._

It was such a relief to arrive at the Burrow, and see so many. Miracle of miracles, Harry was there. But Ron wasn't; not yet. He was one of her best friends—one of her only friends—and they needed him to help hunt for the horcruxes. While she couldn't imagine harbouring any true feelings for him again—not now—he would still be a great comfort. That was why she flew into his arms when he and Tonks returned.

But Moody wasn't back yet.

Bill and Fleur arrived, much to everyone's relief. There was only one pair left, and that was…

"Mad-Eye's dead."*

Hermione heart thumped once. She shook her head in disbelief, and barely heard Bill and Fleur's account. Something about Mundungus leaving, and Voldemort being the one to cast the spell that hit Moody. No details. No green flashes of light, no particular spoken words. But hit with anything in the face while at a great height could kill a person simply through impact with the ground. He was dead.

Her heart rate increased, almost as if he could be brought back to life simply because her heart was beating extra fast, just for him. Here, it seemed to be saying. Take some of these heart beats, and you might live.

But she knew that it wouldn't work. The only consolation that Hermione could find was that at least he had been killed by the Dark Lord himself.

They drank a toast, and she nearly choked on the Firewhiskey. How could they all do this? Why was no one trying to do anything more? She turned away from everyone else, everyone who was crying but who had never known the true Alastor Moody. Only she, Molly and Arthur had known him.

Once she was alone in the bathroom, having a shower, Hermione allowed herself to break down. She beat against the tiled wall, screaming silently, as the tears poured down her face. Why couldn't she tear out her own heart, the heart that had loved him so well, that always would? Why couldn't she just join him wherever he was? The last words they had spoken had been negative. She had told him that she loved him, but he hadn't believed her, had he?

"Alastor," she whispered hoarsely, and she nearly choked on her sobs as she slid to the floor of the shower. She curled herself into a ball, letting the scalding hot water punish her body, the body that had survived. Fortunately for her, the Weasleys—having raised six boys—had silencing charms on the bathroom. When she remembered this, she sighed in relief, before letting out a loud cry of despair. Now she beat the floor, hot from the water, remembering every single touch between them. All of it gone now.

All it would take would be a Plugging charm in the bottom of the shower/bath. A few minutes; just three inches of water was required. Perhaps a Stunner so that she couldn't lose her Gryffindor nerve, and back out at the last minute? That's all it would take…

"No," she said, her voice hollow. "Horcruxes. Must… find… horcruxes." She drew in a shuddering breath. Her body shook with the effort of living. She closed her eyes, just long enough to see his face. She immediately regretted this.

"Alastor!" she cried, and she allowed her heart to break as she lay down where she was, letting her tears mingle with the water of the shower.

She would never be the same again.

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Don't hate me! Don't hate me! Pleeeeease don't hate me! I told Mum that you'd all lynch me for this, but wait the story out. Four more chapters after this one before the story is complete; and then the last chapter, chapter 40, is the alternate, _**happier**_** ending. Want to see my less plausible (canon-wise) but certainly nicer finish? And to think… I've placed it last, therefore the freshest in your minds. Aren't I kind? Going canon first, and then happily **_**non-**_**canon.**

**The only bit I took directly from the book was the line "Mad-Eye's dead". Everything else was summarised from the book. I was surprised to find, when I re-read that part of the chapter, that we don't see Hermione again until after Hedwig is mentioned, and Harry thinks about his death. We never even see Hermione cry over Moody's death in that chapter; it's just assumed. I'm also assuming that she had a shower at some stage.**

**So was this appropriately heart-wrenching? Let me know. And… prepare yourselves for the surprises to come…**

**Next chapter, she sees him again. What the…?**


	36. We'll Meet Again

"We'll Meet Again"

_All it would take would be a Plugging charm in the bottom of the shower/bath. A few minutes; just three inches of water was required. Perhaps a Stunner so that she couldn't lose her Gryffindor nerve, and back out at the last minute? That's all it would take…_

"_No," she said, her voice hollow. "Horcruxes. Must… find… horcruxes." She drew in a shuddering breath. Her body shook with the effort of living. She closed her eyes, just long enough to see his face. She immediately regretted this._

"_Alastor!" she cried, and she allowed her heart to break as she lay down where she was, letting her tears mingle with the water of the shower._

_She would never be the same again._

One night, in early March, the boys were outside. They were likely to be there a couple of hours, though they promised Hermione that they'd tell her if they intended to stray far from their site. Hermione still pined after Moody, and wished that she could see him again, just once. Lying down, she hoped that her dreams would take over.

She pulled out the strange object from her bag, the two lights still shining brightly. She laughed hollowly at it, but stopped when she felt it grow warmer, feeling more than a little disoriented. She shut her eyes, and only re-opened them when she felt herself lying on a cold floor. She sprang up in surprise, and looked around.

"Hogwarts," she said quietly, amazed. She knew this area. This was… this was the seventh floor corridor.

Approaching footsteps caused Hermione to duck into the shadows, heart racing as she shoved the object back into her bag. Her eyes widened when she saw young Alastor Moody round the corner, making his way to the Room of Requirement. He looked so forlorn, so despondent. She felt the ring that remained on her finger, which had gone unnoticed by everyone, to her great relief.

"Alastor," she whispered, her voice hoarse with unshed tears of disbelief at being here once again. He whipped around, wand at the ready, and stared in unashamed joy as Hermione walked out from behind the column. She burst into a short run, and fell into his arms. What a wonderful dream! Someone had certainly made her wish come true, and her shoulders shook.

"Hermione," Moody said, awed that she was here. "It seems the Room of Requirement granted my request before I even had a chance to ask it." They both laughed before he continued. "What are you doing here?"

"I guess I'm here to visit you," she replied, and she smeared away some of the tears that had sneaked down her cheeks. He gently wiped the other cheek for her, and she leaned her face into his hand. "Oh, Alastor. How I missed you…"

"Shh," he whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. "This feels just like a dream."

"I wish it wasn't," she said softly. But the kiss they shared moments later felt real enough. No words were spoken as they paced in front of the wall together, creating the exact room they wanted: Moody's head boy dorm. They hurried inside, shutting the door, and collapsed onto the bed together.

It was all so sudden, and felt so real that Hermione nearly burst into tears. This boy—this man—who she loved so dearly… was dead. They should have had a happy ending. The Weasleys would have liked that. She should have stayed, the future be damned!

The Room of Requirement allowed them all the time they needed, although no time passed outside. Eleven hours they spent together, forgetting everything and everyone except each other, making the most of the time that they had together, that was so precious, so unique.

They held each other as long as possible, before Hermione could feel the object growing warm in her bag. The only words they had ended up speaking were each other's names. She waited until Alastor had left the room, before she pulled out the strange object. She felt it heat up at her touch, and found herself back in the tent. She could hear Harry and Ron's voices outside, and smiled sadly. What a nice dream it had been. How nice; and yet horrible. Horrible, in that she knew she would never see him alive again.

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Well, at least she did get to see him again, no matter how fleeting it was.

**I've named this chapter after the song, which they keep using to advertise this concert-thing that's coming up on 4MBS (Classic FM, a radio station). I'm getting a bit sick of hearing the song, but the title seemed appropriate for this chapter.**

**I definitely don't own the song; but eventually copyright will go from it, and I won't need any disclaimers like this. Hurrah!**

**And can anyone see the twist in this chapter?**


	37. A Real Worry

"A Real Worry"

_The Room of Requirement allowed them all the time they needed, although no time passed outside. Eleven hours they spent together, forgetting everything and everyone except each other, making the most of the time that they had together, that was so precious, so unique._

_They held each other as long as possible, before Hermione could feel the object growing warm in her bag. The only words they had ended up speaking were each other's names. She waited until Alastor had left the room, before she pulled out the strange object. She felt it heat up at her touch, and found herself back in the tent. She could hear Harry and Ron's voices outside, and smiled sadly. What a nice dream it had been. How nice; and yet horrible. Horrible, in that she knew she would never see him alive again._

A few days after the 'run-in' at Malfoy Manor and Dobby's death, Hermione was still getting occasional twitches from her stomach, and wondered what the lasting consequences of the Cruciatus Curse were, as she couldn't remember coming across this in her research.

By rights, she shouldn't have had worries like this, not when they were getting so close to the end of their hunt. They had done so well so far. They were going to break into Gringotts soon, with help from Griphook.

Hermione kept it from everyone that she had been feeling sick. After all, they were about to try something very dangerous, and the Final Battle was approaching. It was just nerves, and she knew that the others were complaining of various ailments brought on by stress, nothing more. So simple an excuse. Phantoms illnesses. That's the only reason she found herself in the bathroom after breakfast every morning. No one questioned it, as she never mentioned it.

"You okay, `Mione?" Ron asked two days before they were due to break into the wizarding bank.

"Just nervous, Ron," she said, and she giggled convincingly. He half-grinned, patted her on the back, and returned to Harry and Griphook, who were talking every so often.

Yes. Nerves. That was all this was. That also explained the fact that her period had conveniently decided to stay away for the time being.

The day before they had to break into the bank, Hermione was trying to distract herself with reading. She had memorised all the books that she had brought with her, and was resorting to browsing through Fleur's books. Some, fortunately, were in English. She ended up perusing a book on pregnancy. She hadn't… done anything like that recently. Not in _real_ life, anyway; and dreams couldn't do things like _that_… could they?

Out of curiosity, Hermione fished out the strange object, which, when she had last used it, had had two lights shining on it. She was shocked to see that it was no longer lit up, and felt very cold all of a sudden. Flipping through the book, she found a pregnancy testing spell.

"Please, please, _please_ say 'no'," she whispered, waiting for the result. It came all too soon.

Now she knew that it hadn't been a dream.

She was positive. On so many levels.

And she had missed her one opportunity to warn him of his fate.

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*Tear* Now Hermione has a mini-Moody growing inside of her. How will things remain in canon after this? Well, just wait and see…

**Thanks for those of you who have stayed this far. I promise, the ideas I have for other Hermoody stories will have happy endings for the couple. Really! **


	38. PostBattle

"Post-Battle"

_Out of curiosity, Hermione fished out the strange object, which, when she had last used it, had had two lights shining on it. She was shocked to see that it was no longer lit up, and felt very cold all of a sudden. Flipping through the book, she found a pregnancy testing spell._

"_Please, please, please say 'no'," she whispered, waiting for the result. It came all too soon._

_Now she knew that it hadn't been a dream._

_She was positive. On so many levels._

_And she had missed her one opportunity to warn him of his fate._

So many dead; even one would have been too many. The Lupins, Colin, the surprisingly _good _Professor Snape… Thankfully, nothing seemed to have harmed Hermione and Moody's baby; she certainly hadn't miscarried as a result of any of her injuries, all of them reasonably superficial. She wished that she knew more about pregnancy, and desperately wanted to read some books on it; but that would just raise suspicions.

How could she have missed her chance to save him? She had had so much time in the past, including the night that had resulted in her pregnancy. And she should have just told him the night of the battle where he had died. What was she supposed to do now?

It would have gone against every last one of Hermione's principles to have an abortion; but she knew that being a single mother would ruin the life she originally had planned. She had had everything planned in the past—both pasts, really—and now knew that she just didn't deserve it. She may have taken lives in the battle; but they were on the side of the Dark, and none of them were through neglecting to risk everything by warning the one she loved of his death.

So many lost opportunities! There was no way Hermione deserved the life that she had wanted. So she came up with her Plan B:

First, she would take a year off in Australia to 'find' her parents. Harry and Ron were planning to help round up the last few Death Eaters. Even if she hadn't been a single mother, her reputation might have been ruined, hindering her chances for a good career. She knew for a fact that there was an English couple by the name of Wilkins who had always wanted a child. Maybe they would be happy to adopt hers? That would solve everybody's problems; wouldn't it? Her parents would unknowingly get to know their grandchild.

Second, she would accept Ron's proposal of marriage, and become the baby machine that she had never wanted to be. That was just a given for any Weasley wife. Never could she tell Arthur or Molly who she really was; but she could get to know them all over again if she was their daughter-in-law.

Last of all, she'd pick some less challenging job at the—sigh—Ministry of Magic, so that she could look after the children that she would have. Ron might be surprised that she wasn't a virgin when they married; but she would make sure that she bore no signs of ever having been pregnant.

But, above all, she would _never _forget Alastor Moody.

**

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**

Next chapter will be the last 'sad' one. I bet you're all relieved about that…


	39. PostEpilogue

"Post-Epilogue"

_Second, she would accept Ron's proposal of marriage, and become the baby machine that she had never wanted to be. That was just a given for any Weasley wife. Never could she tell Arthur or Molly who she really was; but she could get to know them all over again if she was their daughter-in-law._

_Last of all, she'd pick some less challenging job at the—sigh—Ministry of Magic, so that she could look after the children that she would have. Ron might be surprised that she wasn't a virgin when they married; but she would make sure that she bore no signs of ever having been pregnant._

_But, above all, she would never forget Alastor Moody._

Hermione was pregnant with her last child. She knew it would be her last. It was 2018, and their children were due back from Hogwarts in three and a half weeks' time. She wondered how her first child, Jean Wilkins, was doing. Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins had trusted Hermione from the start, never knowing that she was really their daughter. She hadn't the heart to restore their memories, as they were so happy, and she didn't want them to hate her. Her child looked a lot like Alastor, but had Hermione's nose.

Ron was by the hospital bed while Hermione was giving birth. He had been so loving and supportive, and she had stopped thinking of him as her brother sometime during the engagement. He was still her friend, and she pretended to be in love with him for everyone else's sake.

She had written him a letter to go with her will, saying that she was leaving money to the child that her parents had adopted. She visited whenever she could in the earlier years, but preferred Jean not to know who she really was. Also, she didn't want Ron to become suspicious. He didn't deserve that.

"It's all right, `Mione," he told her while she was in labour. "You'll be fine." He looked pale, and they both knew why: the birth wasn't going well. She was losing too much blood, and no potions could help her. They weren't sure why there were complications.

"We both know it's not all right, Ron," she said weakly, trying to squeeze his hand. To save the baby, they couldn't allow a natural birth. The only thing they could do was just hope that she didn't bleed out from the C-section before the baby was safe. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything," he said, tears tracking down his cheeks.

"Name… the baby," she said, her voice getting weaker, "Alastor. After Moody. Please, Ron. Do this for me."

"Of course," he replied, nodding as he gripped her hand. Hermione was close to passing out. "Stay awake, Hermione. Please, don't leave me."

"I love you, Ron. You know that, don't you?" And she did. Just not like she loved Moody.

"And I love you, `Mione. Please, don't go."

"I h-have to. Look after the children, will you? And if you find a nice witch, one you can love… marry her. They'll need a mother."

"Of course," Ron said. Moments later, the baby was out, and there were sighs of relief all around. The midwife came forward with the baby in a towel, and Hermione smiled. With that reddish hair and brown eyes, he almost looked like her other Alastor. How she wished he was here…

"Hermione? _Hermione_?"

* * *

It was pleasant where she was. Sunlight, puffy white clouds, grass for miles, swaying trees. The air was sweet and earthy, as though it had been raining only moments before. Hermione looked around, and her face broke into a smile when she saw Moody standing on a small hill, his back to her. She knew it was him. And, when he turned, she saw that he was the same age as when they met. She felt shorter; and, when she looked at her own body, she saw that she was also seventeen again. She grinned up at him.

"Hello, Alastor," she said, and she began to climb up the hill.

"Hello, Hermione," he replied. "You look just the same."

"So do you."

"Bit of a change from when we last saw each other," he said, his voice just as gruff as when they'd first met. Hermione reached him, and shook her head. She smoothed his hair down, a hand either side, and smiled.

"No," she said. "You never changed. Not to me."

"Then perhaps this is how we see each other here," he said, tilting his head. "The person we saw when we were the happiest together."

"I've always worn this," Hermione told him, holding up her hand with the promise ring he had given her. He smiled at it, and then at her.

"Ready to spend the rest of the afterlife together?" he asked, holding out his hand. She nodded. With a tug, Moody pulled her into his arms.

And, while the breeze whipped around them, melding their robes together, Hermione and Moody shared a kiss, the first of many more. Because they finally had all the time in the world.

**

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First ending over and done with. Ready for the happy ending? If so, then I'll see you all tomorrow, when I'll share with you the ideas I have for my three upcoming Hermoody stories, even if you'll have to wait awhile before I can get around to writing—and, consequently posting—them.

**The last chapter of this story takes off from the end of chapter 34—so an alternate version of chapter 35, without the extraneous chapters afterwards. See you then!**


	40. The Happy Alternate Ending

"The Happy Alternate Ending"

"_So you wrote…"_

"_The letter, yes. The Ministry kept it for me. Please let me travel with you."_

"_I can't…"_

"_Yes, you can, Alastor!" she hissed, and she tried to hold his hand. But he pulled it away._

"_You're travelling with Kingsley," he said, his voice hard. "I trust he will provide enough protection to satisfy your 'aunt'?" With that, he stalked out of the room, and Hermione followed, her heart heavy. He hadn't even given her a chance to explain._

_After they took the Polyjuice Potion, Hermione was sent to Kingsley's side. Before they all split up, she shot one last, desperate look at Moody. She showed him what happened this very night in her mind, hoping that he knew Legillimancy by now._

_Please let him know it, she thought, mounting the Thestral. Please, let him live this time._

_[End of chapter 34, A Girl Remembered.]_

He was dead. Moody was dead. Hermione could barely breathe, and had to lock herself in the bathroom, accompanied by a silencing charm, before she could break down without it looking suspicious. After all, she wasn't supposed to have been that close to him. She could feel the hysteria building, and had to use a sticking charm to adhere herself to the floor as well, though that couldn't stop her from using magic to throw things around the room.

"Alastor," she whispered tearfully, curled up where she had collapsed onto the floor. She beat the wooden boards, ignoring any and all splinters. Her heart was broken, and she didn't care about anything else. Only one thing gave her hope:

They hadn't found his body.

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the Shrieking Shack. She was surprised that she hadn't been sick at the amount of blood around Professor Snape's body. But, considering she already had morning sickness, she probably didn't have much left to throw up. Morning sickness was, quite frankly, more than enough.

They were hurrying up to the school, when a voice called to them.

"Over here!"

"Who is it?" Harry called back; but Hermione already knew that voice.

"Alastor," she whispered, just as she had months ago. She ran forward to the line of trees. Moody was emerging from there, wand at his side, but not yet raised.

"Identify yourself," Ron said sternly.

"What was the name of the head girl when you were head boy?" Hermione asked quietly, and the boys looked at her, stunned.

"Tabitha West," Moody replied, watching her carefully. He felt terrible for his harsh words the night he had almost died, and would tell her so if they both survived the battle. "And how many died at the Christmas Ball that year?"

"T-twelve," she answered. They smiled at each other, and then Hermione launched herself into his arms. "You're back. How did you manage it?"

"I'll tell you after we win," Moody said, and they all continued to the school, planning battle tactics the whole way, preparing themselves to fight.

* * *

The Order of the Phoenix threw a celebration the day after the battle. Only one person on their side had perished, and that was Professor Snape. They were all unsure how to mourn for him at the moment, as they had thought him to be evil for so long. Now was a time to be happy and thankful that they were all alive.

"How did you manage it?" Arthur asked Moody once they were all seated around the living room at number twelve. "We all thought you were dead."

"Voldemort," he began, and then they all looked around. Nothing happened; clearly the taboo really _had_ been lifted. "Voldemort hit me with a curse—probably of his own invention, since I didn't recognise it—and it hit me here." He tapped where his breast pocket was. "It was a good shot."

"What did it do to you?" Professor McGonagall asked, wide-eyed.

"Propelled me off my broom, that's what," Moody muttered resentfully. He sighed, ran a hand over his face, and then glanced down at Hermione. "It didn't get me, but sure as hell put me off-balance."

"Why didn't it hit you?" Molly said. In reply, Moody drew out the letter that Hermione had written to him. She gasped, and everyone looked at her.

"The stasis charm," she said quietly, and Moody nodded.

"Strong spell you put on it, Hermione," he remarked.

"I don't understand," Harry said, looking between them, confused.

"Uh… I have something to confess," Hermione said, looking at each person in turn. "And please don't interrupt me."

* * *

She told them about her accidental time-travel, about meeting a young Moody, having to make up a story to conceal her identity, and becoming a Gryffindor again. She told them about the Christmas Ball—here, they all had a minute's silence for the deceased students—and her crush on Moody. _That_ had garnered a lot of funny looks and impertinent questions. Molly and Arthur chimed in by talking about their friendship with Hermione, and how they missed her once she had left. She mentioned that she had visited the past in what she thought was a dream, but wasn't.

When her carefully edited story was finished, Hermione dared to look at Harry and Ron, who were both speechless. They noticed the ring on her hand.

"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing at the promise ring. Hermione smiled at it fondly.

"Alastor gave it to me," she told them, and she looked at it in the light. She turned to him. "And I'll have you know that I'll take you up on that offer."

"But… but the _age difference_!" several people spluttered at once. Hermione rolled her eyes, and stood up.

"Meanwhile," she said in a bored voice, "I'd like to see where you've been holed up all this time."

"Then hold on," Moody said, also standing, and took her hand. Before anyone could blink, they had Side-Along Apparated out of Grimmauld Place.

* * *

When they were at Moody's hideout, Hermione looked around in approval. It was a small cabin—"We'll get a proper place soon", he told her—in the middle of a forest. The entire cabin was the product of some major Transfiguration work, concealed by strong charms.

"You look younger," Hermione told him as they sat on the floor by the fireplace.

"I've had time to recuperate away from Auror duties," he said, shrugging. "Exploring natural remedies."

"_You_? Explore natural remedies?"

"Did I have much choice out here?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "I've been lying low, as you should have realised by now. I expended enough energy making _this_ place, not to mention all the charms holding it together. But then, Defence has always been my strong point."

"And my weak point," Hermione said, snuggling closer to him. "We're perfectly balanced, aren't we?"

"Why would you still want to marry me?" he whispered. "There _is_ the age difference to consider…"

"Oh, ignore that," she told him, rolling her eyes again. "But how on earth could a natural remedy help to replace your wooden leg? You know, re-grow your old one? And all the scars you used to have—and the injuries to your nose…"

"I'll explain it all one day," he told her, pulling her close. "Suffice to say, I've had a lot of time on my hands, all alone. Right now, let's just enjoy being together again. Just the two of us."

"Uh… the three of us."

He looked at her, confused. "The three of…"

She placed his right hand over the very small bump that was forming there. "We, uh… we forgot something when I visited in that so-called dream."

"Then you're…"

"We're going to be parents," Hermione confirmed, nodding. Moody grinned, and gave her another kiss. Everything was finally all right. Now they just had to wait for everyone to accept the situation, and all would be perfect.

In fact, for now, it was.

**

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The end! Hurrah! I expect a record number of reviews for this, the final post.

**This longer chapter is my apology for having been so mean as to kill him off in the first place. Did anyone fear, when I opened the chapter with his supposed death, that I was killing him off all over again? If so, I do apologise. Thank you all for sticking with the story, and particularly those who forgave me.**

**Now! As to my upcoming Hermoody stories…**

"**Hermione Goes to the 70s"—Hermione ends up teaching DADA at Hogwarts in the 1970s, while Moody is the Muggle Studies professor. Some OOC-ness, and a light, happy relationship between Moody and Hermione. Happy ending, I promise!**

"**Healer Granger"—Hermione accidentally travels back in time while working at St. Mungo's, saving Moody's leg using treatment from her time. They end up together once he finds her working at the Leaky Cauldron. He has her arrested at one point!**

"**Into Hiding"—The Granger household is attacked by Death Eaters, and Moody rescues Hermione, taking her into hiding. She gets to see behind his glamours, and they probably end up happily ever after, though people will, obviously, be against their relationship what with the age difference.**

**Approve of these ideas? I hope so. I've already written the first chapter of "Hermione Goes to the 70s", so I hope that the mid-year holidays will give me plenty of time to work on these stories, and others.**


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